Choosing a name for your baby isn't easy. It reflects the hopes and dreams you have for your child. You rack your brain to think of something just right. Just rare enough but not too silly. Not too common but not too outrageous.
Unless you're a celebrity, of course. In which case you come up with the daftest name you can think of, and then, if you're really trying, compound it with an equally ridiculous middle name for good measure.
When I heard Jamie Oliver had called his new daughter Petal, I thought that was bad enough. Mildly cute I suppose.
But Petal Blossom Rainbow – well, that's frankly ludicrous. I really hope she turns out to be a 15-stone, 6ft 4 Goth. That would serve him right.
Mind you, it can be a tricky business. When we were awaiting the birth of our first child, my husband told everyone he was going to call it Barry Jesus.
"What if it's a girl?" people asked. "Barrietta, of course..."
He became so fixated on the name that I think in a rash moment I may have promised that if we ever get a cat, we can call it Barry Jesus.
We could only agree on two girls' names. Holly was one, and that's what she ended up with. Molly was the other. If we have another girl, we're screwed – we can't have a Holly and a Molly. Then Barrietta will come back into play...
Unless I suddenly become a reality TV star, in which case, we'll probably go the whole hog and have a Molly and a Polly as well. Were Milly-Molly-Mandy's parents celebrities? Probably.
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