Names
They're nice things, aren't they? One of the seemingly simplest things in the universe, they're also the things we take for granted. They’re a birthright. They separate us from others; they're used to distinguish one person from another. First impressions are made by them; we’re far more likely to trust a “John” than we are a “Darren”. Some mean different things to different cultures. Some stem from history; the name “George” has come to mean "farmer", whilst “Calvin” is equivalent to "bald". Some have even been created as parts of fiction; for instance the name "Jessica" was fabricated by Shakespeare for use in the Merchant of Venice.
It's one of the primary decisions a new parent has to face, the question of what to call their child. The establishment of a being, the need to prove to the world that they love them and want them to be able to identify themselves. A badly chosen name can result in a social disability; not to mention a lifelong embarrassment. Johnny Cash famously sang about A Boy Named Sue; a tale about a father subconsciously teaching his son the art of self-defence due to him being overshadowed by the guilt that he wouldn’t be around to see his only child grow up.
Other people take names less seriously; last year a 19 year old lad from Glastonbury entered the Guinness Book of Records by legally changing his name to "Captain Fantastic Faster Than Superman Spiderman Wolverine Hulk And The Flash Combined". In July a young girl successfully won a court case, allowing her to change her given name from “Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii”. There's records that people have been allowed to call their children names such as "Number 16 Bus Shelter" and "Benson" and "Hedges" for twins (although the names "Keenan Got Lucky", "Fat Boy" and "Stallion" were rejected, so that's OK then). A few years back, author Dave Gorman managed to persuade people to officially change their names to echo his - there’s even a chap who was on Channel 4 Racing a few years back called "Willie Fiddler".
We love them, we hate them, and in the case of Peaches Geldof, we take the piss out of them. Names are important. They're the basis of who we are.
The reason I say all this is that I’ve found something out. I’ve realised that in this world of war, prejudice and financial gloom, you can count on those around you that you love for advice and support. People like your family. Your friends. Your flatmates.
Ah. Yes. Your flatmates.
My flatmate changed my name last night.
It’s startlingly easy to do, as well, apparently. For just £15 you can change either your own, or another's name. OK, changing someone else’s name is officially "illegal", but as all you need is a full name and address and the ability to forge a signature, you’ll be set.
So, let’s say you’ve gone this far. You’ve paid the money and entered a name and address. But what now? What will you change this person’s name - this birthright of a name - to? Surely you’d choose something respectful, what with all the potential power you wield. Maybe you could honour their heritage; maybe (as in the case of Cat Stevens) translate it into the religion of your choosing? Something tactful, by any means.
My new name...
Legally changed...
By my flatmate...
Without my permission...
And officially recognised by Deed Poll...
Is...
...
"Bum Full O'Aids".
I particularly like the Irish lilt, but aside from that I'm a bit worried. What if, by forging my signature, my change of name has been automatically been registered by the passport office? The electoral roll? The credit card people? What if I receive a driving license through the post, complete with my new name? I'm not really relishing the prospect of signing my name as "Bum Full O'Aids" (although I must admit, I've been practising my new signature, which looks pretty cool). I'm sure a future wife will be slightly nonplussed at adopting the surname "O'Aids" (it wouldn't be "Full O'Aids"; "Full" is merely a middle name). One thing's definite - if I keep this name I won’t be allowed to book tables in restaurants, or rooms in hotels.
“Yes, will the honeymoon suite do you, sir?"
"That's great, thanks."
"Just the one night?"
"Actually, make it two.
"Lovely, sir. And what name shall I book it in?"
"Bum Full O'Aids."
CLICK.
"Hello?"
Maybe it's not that bad - maybe this change HASN'T been officially registered and I'm still plain old Pete Nottage. Then on the other hand, if it IS now official and my old name is now extinct, imagine the marketing potential my new name could achieve! I'm sure I'd be the only person in the world with my name. There's a positive way out of any situation. After all, as Shakespeare himself said, "a rose by any other name would smell as sweet".
But probably not if it's "Bum Full O'Aids".