Alison?
I used to have a job selling advertising space in classical music magazines. It was a good job, but some of our clients were utterly bonkers. The best ones were the composers. Anybody who spends their days holed up in a tiny room writing twelve-tone serialist art music is bound to be a bit funny in the head. Anyway, I once had occasion to phone an octogenerian composer to try and flog him some ad space. He was quite keen but wanted to have a think about it and call me back. The following conversation ensued:

Him: What did you say your name was?
Me: grandmasterfluffles
Him: Alison? [my real name sounds nothing like Alison]
Me: Nooo...grandmasterfluffles
Him: Alison
Me: Um...no
Him: How do you spell that?
Me: G-R-A-N-D-M-A-S-T-E-R-F-L-U-F-F-L-E-S
Him: G-R-A-N-D-M-A-S-T-E-R-F-L-U-F-F-L-E-S. Alison.
Me: Look, you can call me Alison if you like...

I had to explain to my colleagues that if some old boy phoned the department and asked to speak to Alison, it was for me.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 14:17, closed)