It’s hard enough dealing with a child upset because kids at school are calling them names – but what if Mum and Dad joined in on the act?
I saw on the news today our neighbours across the stream in New Zealand have released their annual list of rejected baby names. Amongst the names which were rejected, despite the wishes of the odd couple of parents (and I really do mean odd as in peculiar, not as in an odd number) were 2nd, Eminence, 4real and 89.
Queen, Lord, Constable, King, Chief and Sargent also failed to make the grade, presumably because New Zealanders don’t like kids to have titles or ranks they haven’t earned. Even Princess, which I think is a bit harsh, and Duke, which I would have loved as a name, got kiboshed. Justice alone has been rejected 62 times since 2001 by the good people of the long white cloud.
As a matter of interest, I have a customer with a son named Justice, although I believe the spelling is different. I think it’s cute in a gangsta/rap sort of way, although Justice’s mother assures me it’s Biblical.
Which wouldn’t help swing things in New Zealand because they’ve also rejected Christ, Lucifer and Messiah.
But it’s the names which have snuck through which have caused headlines around the world. Number 16 Bus Shelter, which as a song title sounds okay but whispered in the bedroom, doesn’t help set the mood. I wonder if he’ll get Numb for short? Then there’s Violence and the carcinogenic twins, Benson and Hedges.
If I’d started with these little rippers, maybe I could have worn Tracey down and she would have let me have a Mary after all.
I knew someone who worked in schools in an Africa country who told me of little kids with names like Shower Rack, Chlamydia and Kettle. Now there’s a country which needs to send a delegation of officials to New Zealand to see how to go about rejecting names.
Then there’s the one name New Zealand thankfully rejected which really makes my bum crawl. Anal. Who would want to do that to a kid?
Well I thought about this today and, as I reflected on the process Tracey and I went through with finding names for our kids, I came up with a theory.
The officials poo-pooed a total of 77 names this year. I mean, it’s nothing really. Tracey rejected at least that many of my suggestions before we came up with the winning names for the members of our brood. I can’t remember all of them, but I know there was Brucilla, Brucette, Brucina and Brucelle. There’s four perfectly good ones right off the bat. What this does show, I hope, is a reason an odd couple (the oddest couple) would ask for Anal to be considered for moniker of their little poo factory – they wanted to name him after themselves!
Yep, I’m assuming little Anal’s dad is an Asshole and his mum’s on crack.
But if you can come up with a better solution, I’m all ears.
For all that, there’s a lesson in all this – don’t fill out the births register forms while you’re still sucking down the happy gas in the delivery ward.
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