Kiwis in serial naming atrocity

For some time I've assumed that the world centre of thick-as-pigshit parents was the United States.

Where else would people saddle their unfortunate offspring with such ludicrous names as these?

But no, it appears that the courts in New Zealand of all places have been working overtime trying to persuade or in some cases enforce parents into giving their children proper names instead of ludicrous embarrassing monikers.

They've been forced to intervene to prevent dumb-as-fuck parents from calling their kids Yeah Detroit, Stallion, Twisty Poi, Keenan Got Lucy, Sex Fruit, Fat Boy, Cinderella Beauty Blossom and Fish and Chips (who were twins).

Somewhat surprisingly, they've gone and let some other people who ought not be allowed to breed to name their kids, despite the names being this stupid: Violence, Number 16 Bus Shelter, Midnight Chardonnay, Benson and Hedges (who are very unfortunate twins).

Personally speaking, I don't see how calling a baby 'Number 16 Bus Shelter' is in any way preferable to calling the child 'Cinderella Beauty Blossom.' Both kids ought to be immediately taken into care, in my opinion.

Like they did with poor 'Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii'. Yup, her bastard parents really did call the child that. Fair play for the judge for making the poor darling a ward of court so that the child could get her name changed.

If ever there was an argument for forced sterilisation in a first world country, this is it. New Zealand, hang your strangely named heads in collective shame, for truly your country has the worst-named babies on Earth.

Unless someone knows better?

Thanks for the Emo, Chum

A little light relief from the ongoing abortion compromise debate.

Fianna Fail's token West Brit Martin Mansergh issued a press release a few days ago on the death of some old lad who had once upon a time handed over his stately home to the Irish nation.

Fair play to him. It's the rare person would give their home to the state. You'd always be fearful that Bertie Ahern might set Celia up in it or Brian Cowen would move into it, or the Greens would turn it into affordable housing for asylum seekers or something..

I'm showing my immaturity here but I'm not the only one to find the concept of a gaff called Emo Court amusing, I reckon.

But the best bit is the name of the former owner. You couldn't make it up:

It is with deep regret that Dr Martin Mansergh, T.D. Minster of State at the Department of Finance with special responsibility for the Office of Public Works and the Arts, heard of the death of Mr Cholmeley* D. Cholmeley-Harrison of Emo Court, Emo, Co Laois. In an act of great generosity, he donated Emo Court and Park to the people of Ireland in 1994.

Imagine Mr Cholmeley meets Ms Harrison. They fall in love, and have a son together, born of their love.

"What shall we call our darling boy?" asks Mrs Cholmeley-Harrrison.

"Why, Cholmeley, of course!" replies Mr Cholmeley-Harrison.

Major Cholmeley Dering Cholmeley-Harrison.

Is there a crazier name in Ireland, I want to know? Of course, it's still nowhere near as mental as these loopers.





*Cholmeley is of course pronounced 'Chumly'.

Happy Hogmanay

Yes, it's been a while.

Sorry about that.

I was busy though, if that helps.

During my blogging mini-hiatus, I became aware of the following facts, which I will offer to you without further comment:

1. Ryanair claim to be the world's 'on-time' airline, but they only achieve their on time targets by adding forty minutes to the scheduled journey, to account for the fact that they are invariably a half hour late leaving.

2. If people try to kill you by blowing themselves up near to you, chances are that they are determined enough for another of them to try a second time. Change jobs, up your security and leave the country. Don't hang around for an election you won't live to see.

3. We's all in big economic doo-doo now. I expect housing to fall calamitously in price in 2008, especially in micro-bubbles like Northern Ireland and the commuterland in the Pale. Sell now, or remortgage on a fixed rate if you haven't already and don't plan on moving for half a decade, when your house will be worth half as much.

4. I don't care how many times they do it, or where they do it, or the fact we're all supposed to feel warm and gooey inside when they do it. Everytime I see Ian Paisley and Martin McGuinness gurning their hideous grins at each other like smitten teens, I feel nauseous.

5. Writing a book is solitary, boring, and takes a helluva lot of hours out of your free time. It also requires discipline, inspiration and a functioning computer.

6. I got a sat-nav for Christmas. But what I really wanted was one of those electronic devices that emit noise only gangs of surly ne'er-do-well teenagers can hear.

7. Texting people is not the same as calling or writing a card or letter. I'm a bad and cheapskate friend in this regard.

8. Big open plan houses are expensive to heat in a rising oil market. So is driving a large family saloon. So why did I only start doing both this year?

9. A chest infection is a handy way of clearing your lungs of all the gunk that smoking normally deposits in there.

10. My peers all started having babies in earnest this year. Fourteen years into my own parenthood project, I'm not inclined to start from scratch again. I admire the courage and energy of my friends, but having seen the road ahead of them, I don't intend to walk it twice.

Happy Hogmanay. Let's all meet up here again next year for pints, right?