Kelly Rose Bradford: Nothing irritates like 'extreme' baby names

Apr 22 2009 Surrey Herald

A friend is about to have a baby and I have helpfully been suggesting names. I am sure they all horrify her completely, and she will come up with something perfectly acceptable, simple and 'nice' without my interfering.

And it probably won't be Petal Blossom Rainbow, unlike Jamie Oliver's most recent offspring.

A recent poll has revealed that one in three women's pet hate is the trend of celeb parents giving their children ridiculous names.

David Whittome, from carpet cleaning firm 1001, which undertook the survey, says that "celebrity status goes to people's heads, they like to stand out from the crowd and extreme baby names are one way of doing that, yet it does nothing but irritate others".

I have to admit that one of my guilty pleasures is listening for what I deem ridiculously named children when I'm out with Boy.

Boy, obviously, is not really called Boy, but has a 'normal', well-known name that has been used in England since Norman times. And no, it is not Norman.

Whatever name you give your child, there is always the strong possibility they are not going to use it anyway - I can think of three members of my own family who go by completely different names to those that appear on their birth certificate (including my own mother), and others who go for diminutive forms, or nicknames.

Even Boy doesn't actually get called by his full name at home,a shortened play on his name being used instead.

Completely made up names seem to be de rigueur at the movement and if a Y can be fitted into the middle of them, so much the better, if my encounters with gluts of Braydons, Jaydons and Kaydons at the supermarket are anything to go by.

Proof, if it were needed, that having a baby does make you go mad and that the naming of an infant is probably best not done immediately after birth, when you are convinced you have just delivered the new Messiah and wish to name him accordingly.

Or, if you are a celebrity, take inspiration from the floral tributes and fruit bowls adorning the surfaces of your room at the Portland.

I have to confess, Boy did actually have a narrow escape with his own moniker.

While the pregnancy hormones were raging, I wanted to call him everything from St John to Columbus.

If he had been a girl, Persephone was mooted. And, for some utterly bizarre reason, I felt I had to get Elizabeth into a girl's name somewhere as she would have been born in the Queen's Golden Jubilee year.

With hindsight, I would not have given Boy at least one of his middle names (he has two) and perhaps even a different Christian name if I'd had longer to think about it.

Like about six years, when something more suitable could have been chosen. Damien, maybe, or Lucifer...