NAMES

The work of processing Tax Credit claims does not, ordinarily, offer much in the way of diversion or entertainment. And it may give some measure of the tedium of the job when I say that in an attempt to scrape together a few shavings of light relief, I have recently taken to noting down some of the more striking and unusual names which appear on Tax Credit applications forms.
I suppose I should declare an interest at this point since, when my two sons were born, I intended that they should be called Nebuchadnessar and Methusela. I have to confess that this choice was inspired more by the generous dimensions of champagne bottles than any long standing admiration for the wisdom and perspicacity of Old Testament kings. But still, at the time, I felt it displayed a commendable independence of mind; a willingness to strike out and be different from the crowd. Unfortunately my wife, being of a more prosaic turn of mind, could not be persuaded of the benefits that such an imaginative break with convention would confer upon our children. So, as the old joke goes, we compromised and she chose their names.
Mind you, I once knew a couple who couldn’t or wouldn’t reach agreement at all in the naming of their son. The mother called him Christopher and the father Barnaby. I have often thought that if these parents had wanted to ensure that their son suffered from lifelong schizophrenia it would have been difficult to devise a more effective strategy.
But to return to the Tax Credit Office; in amongst the legions of Karens, Darrens and Waynes, there are a few names which succeed in raising the eyebrow and grabbing the attention. Names which bear witness to the imagination, perversity or just plain whimsy of their parents. Names which will at the very least, ensure that their recipients do not pass through life unnoticed.
As to Christian names; I have a particular fondness for the classical. Xenos, Aphrodite and Zeus are among the commoner ones. And Roman Emperors seem particularly popular at the moment: Octavius’, Caesars and Augustus’ feature by the score – though I’m still waiting for my first Caligula.
Then there are the slightly more outlandish names like Pagan or Satan.
Now to call a child Satan seemed to me, at first, to be an act of wilful malevolence. But then I got to thinking about all those colic-ridden nights that new-borns inflict upon their parents and I could quite see that after a couple of sleep deprived weeks, Satan might seem an entirely appropriate name.
On the flip side of this particular coin were the twin sisters called Blessing and Miracle. I like to think that they were born to older parents who had given up all hope of having children and that the names were somehow a spontaneous expression of their surprise and joy. Quite whether Blessing and Miracle will seem so apt when their daughters enter that endless tunnel called pig-awkward adolescence is, of course, another matter.
As for Sky Helena Moonbeam - I was entranced. A child surely born to sparkle and touch with magic the lives of everyone whose path she crossed. A creature of air and light and joy. Please God, let her not be a witless, lumpen pudding.
Then there are the unfortunate surnames like Mr Sick or Mrs Pimple - I can only conclude that she must have loved her husband to abstraction. And when your surname is Clapp there must be a huge temptation to resort to deed poll. So I thought it showed chutzpah of the highest order when this particular Mrs and Mrs Clapp not only retained their surname but chose to call their son Charles Thunder. Anyway, I’m sure this was a decision arrived at only after much consideration, which is more than can be said for Mr and Mrs Key who, had they given it a moment’s thought would have called their son anything but Donald. Ok, it does take a moment’s thought.
Many people, including myself, have an intense dislike of the business of filling in forms even at the best of times. And if your wife has just left you and the cat has peed on the carpet I can quite understand the urge to put ‘Attila the Hun’ or ‘Mickey Mouse’ in the space marked NAME. So when I came across ‘Sonic the Hedgehog’, I was not unduly surprised.
However, Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs doesn’t do funny or amusing so I was required to phone the gentleman in question to establish precisely what his name was. The conversation went something like:
‘Hello, is that Mr Hedgehog?’
‘Yes’.
‘Mr Sonic Hedgehog?’
‘Yes’.
‘It’s the Tax Credits Office here, I am processing your claim, but before I can go any further I need to know your legally correct name’.
‘It’s SONIC THE HEDGEHOG’. First name SONIC, middle name THE, spelt ‘T’, ‘H’, ‘E’. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
I assured him I did not but wondered whether the same could be said for his wife and children.
I readily accept that there is something very adolescent in the business of poking fun at other peoples names, particularly so, when they are foreigners. Take Mr Thong Pie for example. For all I know, it is a perfectly ordinary and unremarkable Vietnamese /Cambodian name but for some reason the thought of Mr Thong Pie continues to provide me with hours of childish chortling pleasure. Of course, there’s always the uncomfortable suspicion that in some South East Asian equivalent of the Tax Credit Office there might be someone convulsed in paroxysms of laughter over that ludicrous Welsh name: Trefor Lloyd.
I feel similar twinges of guilt about Stella Curry - although any aspiring ladette would surely rejoice in it. Then there’s Amos Delprat. A name that in my mind’s eye, constructs a comic edifice festooned with banana-skinned and custard-pied mirth. Quite why I should find it so funny I don’t know, but I just do.
Of course I could go on to delight you with the essential English whimsy of names like Mr Woebegone or Mr Bytheway but I think I’ve milked this particular cow quite dry enough.
And I’m sure that as a sophisticated, mature adult you find a catalogue of unfortunate or unusual names palls very quickly and you may indeed find the whole exercise in questionable taste.
But before you become too comfortable on that particular spot of moral high ground, I challenge you to try finding some light relief in the troglodytic world of Tax Credit Processing.