The Naming Of The Beast

Yesterday I hinted at another of my pet hatreds – Ridiculous Spellings Of Monikers. I’d like to speak a little bit more about that, if only in the hope that the therapeutic unloading might cathartically cleanse my soul to the point that I no longer worry about stabbing people in the eye over the small matter of their children’s names. My life seems to have been littered with a recurring theme of meeting people who follow this trend, presumably just so they can tell you “Her name is this (insert suitable name here) but its spelt like this (insert suitably ludicrous chav spelling of said name here.)” I can see no other possible reason why some tracksuit wearing babymaker should saddle their spawn with the name ‘Mary’ but spell it ‘m-a-y-o-r-e-y’.. Or call their son Jason but spell it JAYSUN, like some kind of cheap old Japanese car. I’m not making these up, by the way; take a look around your local community, or sneak a look at the Arrivals section of your local rag, and these horrible bastardisations are being forced on unsuspecting children on a weekly basis. I have seen them, and met them.
The ultimately horrifying one was the dippy bitch at the Post Office who called her offspring ‘Kortni Tuppence Murray’ and spelt it that way because ‘it makes a common sounding name more exotic.’ Yeah, right.. You can dress a pig up in a tutu, but it’s still a shit-troughing support system for pork, as my dear old nan used to say.

RC 3-2-09
1730 GMT