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This is a question People with Stupid Names

There are hundreds of unfortunate people out there with silly names desparately coping with the evil their parents perpetrated upon them at birth.

So far, I've met a woman called Rusty Tharp, a child health consultant called Peter Files and have the business card for "Fab Boolaky" on my desk.

We'd like you to tell us about the people you've met or work with that have silly, inappropriate or frankly wierd names.

(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 10:54)
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This question is now closed.

Japanese Company I know...
Just about kept the laughing in when I met the sales rep from a parts company the other day...

Miki Pulley

For the doubters....

www.mikipulley.co.jp/
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:36, Reply)
We have a customer who my colleague is dealing with today..
Called Willie Mould.

Not Bill or William which would be the obvious alternative.. but Willie.

Good for a snigger everytime my colleague has to ask for him on the phone.

I also used to deal with someone called Blackwood Hodge which sounds more like a Tree Disease than anything.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:34, Reply)
It has always baffled me
how many times Mr and Mrs Head have called their offspring Richard.

Once on a slow afternoon in the warehouse, myself and eleven colleagues repeatedly called every Richard Head in the Greater London directory. On speaker. And laughed at them.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:32, Reply)
not people I know,
but friends of an aquaintance of an introduction type thing...
Well, I met a lass who told me about this married couple, whose surname was Burst. They had twins - a girl and a boy. Now, I forget their exact first names, but it was something along the lines of John and Sarah. The funny bit was in the middle names - Will and May respectively...

= John Will Burst and Sarah May Burst...

Oh, and there was a bint of a maths teacher at my old school called Ms Hite. Ms Sarah Hite. What fun it was having a shite for a teacher...
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:31, Reply)
Chrisopher
Peacock

Who for some reason hated it when his name was abreviated to Chris.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:30, Reply)
You see some ridiculous names telemarketing...
and unfortunately there's a law against sharing them.

Some great examples:

Robyn Vile ('its pronounced vee-lay' - didn't make a sale on this one)
Helen Likopantis
Julie Ann Horniblow

and the weirdest name I ever came across (must have been a deed poll, but what the?)

Peaches Thedeeperland.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:29, Reply)
I once met a guy
whose name sounded very much like a rather rude part of the human body, but I can't for the life of me remember what it was. Rest assured, it was hilarious - as I am sure all of these will be too. I am also certain that it wasn't at all made up. No siree bob.

Oh - it just came to me. The bloke's name was David Ripping-Cuntlips. See? - dripping-cuntlips. I told you it was hilarious.

*sigh*
*wanders off*

I'm bored now.

*whistles to self*

Anyone still here and bothering to read this?

Eh?

How long can these things be anyway?

For a long time I used to go to bed early. Sometimes, when I had put out my candle, my eyes would close so quickly that I had not even time to say “I’m going to sleep.” And half an hour later the thought that it was time to go to sleep would awaken me; I would try to put away the book which, I imagined, was still in my hands, and to blow out the light; I had been thinking all the time, while I was asleep, of what I had just been reading, but my thoughts had run into a channel of their own, until I myself seemed actually to have become the subject of my book: a church, a quartet, the rivalry between François I and Charles V. This impression would persist for some moments after I was awake; it did not disturb my mind, but it lay like scales upon my eyes and prevented them from registering the fact that the candle was no longer burning. Then it would begin to seem unintelligible, as the thoughts of a former existence must be to a reincarnate spirit; the subject of my book would separate itself from me, leaving me free to choose whether I would form part of it or no; and at the same time my sight would return and I would be astonished to find myself in a state of darkness, pleasant and restful enough for the eyes, and even more, perhaps, for my mind, to which it appeared incomprehensible, without a cause, a matter dark indeed.

I would ask myself what o’clock it could be; I could hear the whistling of trains, which, now nearer and now farther off, punctuating the distance like the note of a bird in a forest, shewed me in perspective the deserted countryside through which a traveller would be hurrying towards the nearest station: the path that he followed being fixed for ever in his memory by the general excitement due to being in a strange place, to doing unusual things, to the last words of conversation, to farewells exchanged beneath an unfamiliar lamp which echoed still in his ears amid the silence of the night; and to the delightful prospect of being once again at home.

I would lay my cheeks gently against the comfortable cheeks of my pillow, as plump and blooming as the cheeks of babyhood. Or I would strike a match to look at my watch. Nearly midnight. The hour when an invalid, who has been obliged to start on a journey and to sleep in a strange hotel, awakens in a moment of illness and sees with glad relief a streak of daylight shewing under his bedroom door. Oh, joy of joys! it is morning. The servants will be about in a minute: he can ring, and some one will come to look after him. The thought of being made comfortable gives him strength to endure his pain. He is certain he heard footsteps: they come nearer, and then die away. The ray of light beneath his door is extinguished. It is midnight; some one has turned out the gas; the last servant has gone to bed, and he must lie all night in agony with no one to bring him any help.

I would fall asleep, and often I would be awake again for short snatches only, just long enough to hear the regular creaking of the wainscot, or to open my eyes to settle the shifting kaleidoscope of the darkness, to savour, in an instantaneous flash of perception, the sleep which lay heavy upon the furniture, the room, the whole surroundings of which I formed but an insignificant part and whose unconsciousness I should very soon return to share. Or, perhaps, while I was asleep I had returned without the least effort to an earlier stage in my life, now for ever outgrown; and had come under the thrall of one of my childish terrors, such as that old terror of my great-uncle’s pulling my curls, which was effectually dispelled on the day—the dawn of a new era to me—on which they were finally cropped from my head. I had forgotten that event during my sleep; I remembered it again immediately I had succeeded in making myself wake up to escape my great-uncle’s fingers; still, as a measure of precaution, I would bury the whole of my head in the pillow before returning to the world of dreams.

Sometimes, too, just as Eve was created from a rib of Adam, so a woman would come into existence while I was sleeping, conceived from some strain in the position of my limbs. Formed by the appetite that I was on the point of gratifying, she it was, I imagined, who offered me that gratification. My body, conscious that its own warmth was permeating hers, would strive to become one with her, and I would awake. The rest of humanity seemed very remote in comparison with this woman whose company I had left but a moment ago: my cheek was still warm with her kiss, my body bent beneath the weight of hers. If, as would sometimes happen, she had the appearance of some woman whom I had known in waking hours, I would abandon myself altogether to the sole quest of her, like people who set out on a journey to see with their own eyes some city that they have always longed to visit, and imagine that they can taste in reality what has charmed their fancy. And then, gradually, the memory of her would dissolve and vanish, until I had forgotten the maiden of my dream.

When a man is asleep, he has in a circle round him the chain of the hours, the sequence of the years, the order of the heavenly host. Instinctively, when he awakes, he looks to these, and in an instant reads off his own position on the earth’s surface and the amount of time that has elapsed during his slumbers; but this ordered procession is apt to grow confused, and to break its ranks. Suppose that, towards morning, after a night of insomnia, sleep descends upon him while he is reading, in quite a different position from that in which he normally goes to sleep, he has only to lift his arm to arrest the sun and turn it back in its course, and, at the moment of waking, he will have no idea of the time, but will conclude that he has just gone to bed. Or suppose that he gets drowsy in some even more abnormal position; sitting in an armchair, say, after dinner: then the world will fall topsy-turvy from its orbit, the magic chair will carry him at full speed through time and space, and when he opens his eyes again he will imagine that he went to sleep months earlier and in some far distant country. But for me it was enough if, in my own bed, my sleep was so heavy as completely to relax my consciousness; for then I lost all sense of the place in which I had gone to sleep, and when I awoke at midnight, not knowing where I was, I could not be sure at first who I was; I had only the most rudimentary sense of existence, such as may lurk and flicker in the depths of an animal’s consciousness; I was more destitute of human qualities than the cave-dweller; but then the memory, not yet of the place in which I was, but of various other places where I had lived, and might now very possibly be, would come like a rope let down from heaven to draw me up out of the abyss of not-being, from which I could never have escaped by myself: in a flash I would traverse and surmount centuries of civilisation, and out of a half-visualised succession of oil-lamps, followed by shirts with turned-down collars, would put together by degrees the component parts of my ego.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:29, Reply)
A gynaecologist...
..Mr Butcher.

Just don't try his beef curtains....
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:28, Reply)
Stan and Sid
A friend of mine used to work with someone called Stan Still. It turned out that Stan had a brother called Sid. Stan Still and Sid Still.

Frighteningly genuine and true!
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:27, Reply)
Don't call me a pussy, pussy!
Used to work in an investment bank, and one of the guys there from the New York office was called Chris Pussy. Also, a friend of mine went to school with a girl called Antoinette Bellchamber.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:25, Reply)
Justins
At skool we had a Justin Myers (My-arse)
At work we have a Justin Casey

I also met Tom Jones at the start of my new job. Failed to keep a straight face and got off on the wrong foot when I said that his name was 'not unusual'

Too easy
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:22, Reply)
heres a couple
during his years as a doctor, my dads managed to come into contact with some pretty strange people ... the most mundane was probably Neil Down (yes, that really did exist how cruel!!!) ... the most far out was the child of mr and mrs shore ... who they actually named bithersie ... read it quick enough and it sounds almost like "by the sea shore" ... oh and my friends dad is called Randy Johnson.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:22, Reply)
At my former job we had a client called Koos Busters
koos is a Dutch name and sounds something like "cose"

Needless to say, it was quite hilarious.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:22, Reply)
I'm certain I heard that there's
an Olympic athelete called Wilfred or William Bumgay. But I was on crack when I heard that...
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:21, Reply)
tenants
working as an estate agent you are exposed to many names. cue a landlord called gideon and another called byron. both owners of shambolic little dwellings that did not match their lofty names.

the tenant of my own flat was genuinely michael hunt. the girls loved asking me whether my c*nt had paid his rent this month or whether my c*nt was staying for another 6 months.

but the best of all was our liverpudlian tenant who was 100% called... NAHIDA MANN... say it out loud for comedy factor. genius.

oh and check out your phone book when you are really really bored one day. there will be a mr bastard in there. guaranteed.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:18, Reply)
Oooh, another
When in America 2 years ago we dined at a restaurant called RC Willy's.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:18, Reply)
My ex
worked in PR, and used to work with a journalist called Minty Clinch. which I liked.

Also in Gatwick on friday I am fairly sure I saw a book advertised by an author called Fannie Flaps, but I had been drinking heavily.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:17, Reply)
Someone teaches a child called
Chance.

Poor fecker. Called that as the mam had had all of her previous children taken into care, and she felt this was her last "chance" to be a good mother. So she called the kid "chance".
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:12, Reply)
Another:
We had a part-time cover teacher at school called Mr Greathead. There was much hilarity when he was hired full time and I created a fictional headline for the newsletter of:
"MRS YATES GIVES GREAT HEAD
a full-time job"
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:10, Reply)
My computing teacher
was called Mary Hough (pronounced 'Huff), which makes a nice spoonerism if you ask me!

Oh yeah, My Dad's called Phil Collins, and my gran is called Joan Collins. How could i forget?!
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:10, Reply)
I used to know (not in that sense) a woman
that was very much of a charva. She had three kids, called, David, Leigh and Travis.
I think they each had a different father.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:09, Reply)
A mate of mine...
His surname is Heap. His first name starts with S.

Making Sheap. Which is slightly amusing when you're at school. But not as amusing as when you apply it to his brother, called Chris.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:09, Reply)
My gf's uncle
is called Gordon Bennet. He actually changed his name to that too cos he was called Francis Bennet!

Also my dad met a japanese man who was called Dr Quak In-Duk.

Two more:
My friends who were brothers last name was Gi and their first names where Ben and George respectively. Bloody stupid parents!
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:08, Reply)
A friend of mine went out with a guy named Ben
who had an identical twin also called Ben.
This is 100% fact.

Benjamin and Benedict. Evidently their parents never saw the problem coming.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:07, Reply)
Back in the day
When i used to work for the Benefits Agency, we had this "customer" whose name was Yusuf Kunt, who insisted that we call him Yu.

Cue great hilarity when he came in on counter and we had to call Yu Kunt up to the window.

Again, going back some, i knew someone called Penny who was getting married to an Adam Nurse, hence they would be A. Nurse and P. Nurse.

And then a couple of months ago I met a girl called Leanne who was getting married the next day to a Mr Perrin, so she was about to become Leanne Perrin
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:07, Reply)
There was a guy at our school
Called Paul Enis.

Really.

There are plenty of people with silly names that we get calling in to our workshop as well, but I don't want to ridcule them in case I get a brisk spanking from work :-)
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:07, Reply)
My name is
Steven Chicken. My brother, Graeme Chicken, started working in the meat section of our local Asda just this Monday.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:07, Reply)
Two of them
When I was working for a training company we had two trainees with frankly awful names.

1) Grendon Wigmore - quite what his parents were thinking I do not know but this poor chap must've suffered some abuse.

2) Sukhdeep Kang. Anyone with the name Sukhdeep is in for a rough ride.

Poor fuckers
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:06, Reply)
I've got loads listed at my site
which was featured in the newsletter yonks ago

Fcked.co.uk

Never met any of them though.
(, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:05, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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