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.
( TV's Nosemonkey, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:29, 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.
( Newington, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:07, Reply)

I'm responsible for averting some disasters
We (nurses in Maternity Ward) have talked many parents out of stupid and/or embarrassing names:

Clitoris ("But it's so pretty!")
LaTrina ("It's a toilet where?")
Harley (Not bad but the family was named Davidson)
Nair (Name of a hair removal product. what were they thinking?)

We have been unsucessful more often, sad to say:

Chon ("you know, as in Chon Kennedy!")
Velvet Boes
Kandy Kane
Veleena Fritz
twins James and Jim ("What do you mean they're the same name?")
and my two faves--
YoHighness DaFines' ('Yo' for short)
twins Chip and Dale, named not for the Disney chipmunks, but for the nudie dancers.


Our friend's name Uwe Pleban is pronounced "OOvah PLAY bahn" He got some junk mail addressed by someone who had obviously only heard his name.

The name was Hoover Fleabomb
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 19:15, 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!
(yokelrobin THE NERD WHOSE HAIR DEFIES GRAVITY/FASHION, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:27, Reply)

names from school
Two brothers at school called Andrew Ness and Peter Ness. All fine until role call-

A.Ness?
Sir.

P.Ness?
Sir.

Guaranteed hysterics every assembly
( Badger_Phenomenon, Fri 27 Aug 2004, 8:50, Reply)

cock
There was a boy at our school called Lee Mycock.

Not all that funny in itself, but it made our day when the deputy headmaster was looking for Lee for some reason, and burst into our history class to bellow the immortal words "Where's Mycock?"
(baz, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 15:00, Reply)

That is all
www.novell.com/training/cde/features/randy.html
( xian, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 12:28, Reply)

i hope my brother hasn't already posted this
my mum's cousin used to be the registrar for births deaths and marriages in NZ. amongst the gems that she collected from him over the years are:

Benson and Hedges (twins)
Lesbiona and Dirkshit (twins - i kid you not)
My Own Revenge
Worthy Relief
Christmas Naughty

and, my personal favourite:

Joseph Holiday Express Cocoa Bean.
(jamtart, Mon 30 Aug 2004, 3:49, Reply)

just remembered...
My mum knew one woman called Rose Rose, and another called Chris Cross.

Gary and Phil Neville's dad is called Neville Neville.

I'm glad my name isn't silly.

Yours Sincerely,
Gordon Shitbag.
(pb4ugo2bed, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 17:13, Reply)

A customer at a theatre I used to work at:
Helen Highwater
( urbane legend i have known the inexorable sadness of pencils, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 13:14, Reply)

I work with a guy called Tom Jones
but I suppose it's not unusual.



/coat
(Mr. Partyhat, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 12:24, Reply)

Worked with a guy
Called Chris Peacock. I had his login name changed to chrispycock. Of how we laughed until I remembered he was the sales manager and I worked for him. Cunt sacked me.

Also got a mate called Mike Cox (say it quickly after many vodkas) we call him FatBoy tho.
(lastingdamage, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 12:19, Reply)

My friend's old school
head teacher was called Frank Lee Gay,
and quite frankly, he was gay
( SarahRatt, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:51, 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
(monkeyht1, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:22, 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
(Mischeivious_Delinquent_Squirrel, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 11:07, Reply)

long time reader, first time poster, etc...
Okay here we go:

A mate of mine once worked for a company who had a Jappy chappy on their books with the rather unfortunate name of Mr Fukyamama. No joke...

I currently work at social services so in my more bored moments I used to search their client databases for names which might warrant a giggle. On one occasion I managed to find a fella whose first name was Poo. Now what could be the worst surname for a person with such a first name? Stain? Pants? No. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you.....


Mr Poo Poo.

I know where he lives and everything. Beat that.
(widdy, Tue 31 Aug 2004, 15:24, Reply)

Thai names
I live in Thailand, so this is going to be a long one. You might have heard of names like Tittiporn. I'm afraid it's true. Other common, everyday names (I've met people with all these names) include Suleeporn, Supaporn, Pornanong, Pornchai, Porntip...

But those are real names, which are reserved for formal use. Usually people use their nicknames, which are given by the parents. For example, Pong, Poo, Dik, Nit, Pee, Gay...

In recent years parents have started to use English in their children's names. So popular nicknames now include, A (as in, "the first letter of the English alphabet"), B (as in, the second letter of the...), C, D...

Occasionally the mistake is a bit more obscure. For example, the mother who wanted to give her son a better start in life with a name that suggested nobility... like Prince, or Earl... sadly the cheap dictionary used only had the word "Title". Now that would make form-filling a lifetime nightmare...
(Mori, Sun 29 Aug 2004, 8:26, Reply)

One of mine, and another that I've been told...
At my school, there was a substitute teacher called Mr Mort (mort being French for dead) and he looked similar to a zombie. Perhaps he should be Mr UnMort...

The one that I was told was by my friend's brother, who went to Asda, bought some stuff, and looked at the receipt which said that "Your operator is Gay".
(Keiths Dad, Sat 28 Aug 2004, 22:49, Reply)

Note Teru
I've heard of:
May Dupp
Justin Vented
Jo Kernayme
Note Teru
Yoov Bin Had
Imogen Airey
Neva X Isted
May Bea Not
Ken A Getaweighwivit
Obvi Sly Alowdac Rap
Gay Tina Bitsilleenow
Rick Witter
(I may have gone too far with the last one...)
(bedford van Shoddy Ideas, Shoddily Created, Fri 27 Aug 2004, 16:19, Reply)

There was a girl at school, surname Lear.
who's parents clearly hated her..

They named her 'Shander'
( NobbyNobody 21 years a b3tan, Fri 27 Aug 2004, 14:17, Reply)

100% of fact....
A friend of mine found an article in The Times a few years ago about some sort of kiddie pron ring. It was a hard hitting article that was also rather moving, examining the situation from all sides and putting across the victims point of view very factually.
Unfortunately the impact of the article was totally lost when we saw that the reporter's name was Roger Boyes.
(bob n bev, Fri 27 Aug 2004, 11:06, Reply)

Been having a bit of a tidy up and found a bundle of old business cards...
While flicking through them to sort out which I needed to keep, I found one for the president of a south korean computer games company called Makkoya.
The name on the card was :
Dong-He, Hong
Seriously, this was the name printed on the card.
And he works for a games company.

In fact, just dug the card out again, here it is:

Gotta be a wind-up, surely? Anyone able to confirm for me?
( GigerPunk has, hopefully, slept since, Fri 27 Aug 2004, 0:14, Reply)

I know a guy called Dan
His name's not funny, but neither is he.
(lordfredatron lordfredatron, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 17:06, Reply)

My girlfriend's docter
was caled Dr. Zonker. That made my day.
(Dethro Jix I'm better than you and I probably hate you. Cunt., Thu 26 Aug 2004, 16:26, Reply)

Jessica
I knew a girl at Uni called Jessica Bastard. Very unfortunate name, but she did use to her advantage.

She went for President of the Student Union and used the slogan...Jessica Bastard, The Only Bastard to Vote For.

Class
(unkle77 Click sig for totally ambient tunes!, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 16:14, Reply)

At school in Wellingborough
The 2 male PE teachers were called Mr Ardon and Mr Bates.

Obviously we didn't ever laugh about it because, as they quite rightly pointed out, their names were not funny!
(lordfredatron lordfredatron, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 15:59, Reply)

Isaac
Simply scroll to the bottom of the webpage to see the unfortunate man:

www.bu.edu/mzank/Michael_Zank/autobio/stories.html
(And I don't agree with that in the workplace, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 15:41, Reply)

Doctors' names
I used to work for an agency which sent locums to hospitals. We had one called Dr Shirt. We sent him to replace a Dr Hanger, working for a consultant called Mr Wardrobe.

Another time I employed a Dr Wong in one team. Not too unusual. Except there was already a Dr Wong in the team. The consultant complained that this could cause confusion. I said we had a Dr White available - but two Wongs don't make a White. He smiled. Slightly.
(keef, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 14:14, Reply)

Here we go then
Regularly clearing out an old subscription database provides me with the occasional cracker.

Needless to say, these are all true...

Terry Onions
Nelson Funk
Minky Spiro
Willie Smax
Tarquin Mint
Dave Thrasher
Sas Bonser
Miriam Honeyball
Copper Travers
Catriona Mundle
Zale Wampler
Nathan Chinbong
Athena Ho
Onward Lam
Simona Plutt
Hugo House
Henk Knoop
Purificacao Soares
Oksana Greydinger
Pavel Nozdrin
Duke Biswas
Thomas Titz...yes really...Tommy Titz
Dwight Divine
Lorrie Schnitzspahn
Dr. Lothar Wanke
Pilai Poonswad

...and not forgetting the mighty Cock Nap.
(The original lanky streak, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 12:22, Reply)

And there's a story in
one of the Dilbert Newsletters about some Yank calling her kid Ampersand because she heard it once, not knowing what one was, and thought it sounded cool and European.
Still, at least Ampersand has an easy signature eh?
( fishsticks, Thu 26 Aug 2004, 12:15, Reply)