The naming game …

Two teacher friends are having a baby soon. They should be thinking of life insurance and university fees and pushchairs but they’ve not decided on a name yet. He thinks Bullet but she thinks not. I thought Little Red Wagon but have changed my mind to Rice Pudding. It evokes feelings and thoughts of warmth and love and has no connection to filthy brats skulking and festering and rotting in the back corner.

Most teachers have a name from their early years that evokes bad recall, tremors, bowel movements and a twitchy trigger finger. I taught a brat called Winston once. A sneaky little ratbag he was. And there was a Helen, a real tyrant in the playground. Good names but bad memories so, no.

There’s the awkward possibility of son or daughter having the same name as the principal. Imagine – in the staffroom discussing Dawn’s weight gain or Dawn’s eventual grasp of manners or Dawn’s recent near-successes at toilet-training. The staffroom weenie overhears, then sneaks off to Dawn-the-boss’ office to tell tales and earn suck-up points and assure Dawn that ‘no, the dress doesn’t make her bum look big’.

There’s always the traditional names – from The Thunderbirds – like Virgil, Miss Penelope or Parker. Or sporting heroes like Buck Shelford and Roger Federer – but Buck rhymes with… and Roger’s also a verb. Irene Van Dyk’s fine but Dike isn’t very, you know, girly… so, no.

There’s the whole issue of nicknames: William will doubtless be called Willy which is especially bad if he’s, you know, small. Boys shouldn’t grow up being called Little Willy. Richard becomes Dick, which is fine if he’s Clever but not if he’s short, or walks with a limp – if you know what I mean.

They can always name their kid after someone famous, but he thinks Britney and Kylie are famous. He’s a bit of a Margaret Thatcher fan too but Margaret would become Maggie and there’d be a limerick ending with ‘shaggy’ so, no.

I wondered about body-parts. I’ve taught an Arm and a Bum (really). Heart would be lovely of course. But Liver, Kidney and Spleen? And you just know an ardent Feminist would name her kid Ovary or Fallopian or… [no, Editor]. Or if the parents are Masculinists then it’d be named Testicle.

The thing is, they’re both teachers. They know their kid’s name must be easy to spell (for their dyslexic colleagues); short (to fit in the mark book); and it must be simple to pronounce. It should evoke warm feelings and perhaps honour something of value. I’ve suggested Chocolate. They’re favouring Summer Holiday or maybe just Friday Afternoon.

— Peter Giddens