I know a disproportionate number of people (yes the sentence could have ended there, but no there's more) named Hannah who are very nice. Hannah Gadsby. The Hannah who manages Minchin's My Space in the UK – in fact, a brace of lovely Hannahs I met over there.
Similarly I know a lot of redheaded Geraldines. I think that might be because fundamentally people don't like redheads very much, except to shag once so they can say "I've done it with a ginger" in pubs, and now that they can't burn us at the stake any more, they feel the need to keep us in check by persecuting us through high school or, if we're girl-gingers, by giving us thinly-veiled male names with a clumsy tag on the end which are only in fashion once every 20 years. Geraldine. The slightly-more-frequent-than Halley's Comet of Christian names. Although Geraldine Hickey isn't a sauce-head. YET.
On the other hand, most Joannes who I've met have been cuntish. Of course, I'm sure there are exceptions, so if you are a Joanne who I have met at a gig, or, more importantly, a Joanne who can give me a gig, obviously you're one of those exceptions. Maybe it's a cats and dogs thing between Geraldines and Joannes. Ah! Both male names with a bit tagged on the end to make it vaguely feminine – like a large German woman on steroids in leather shorts with a bow in her hair sort of feminine.
I have a terrific run with Daves. Gorgeous Dave who used to DJ at Weekender and Supermarket with Steve Wide, the finest Indie Clubs in Melbourne, he's in the top five for sure. Dave Bushell, Dave Thornton, Dave Quirk, Dave Grant, Dave O'Doherty, Dave Callan, these are just some of the fine Daves in the comedy industry. And, of course, Dave Bowie. He's done all right for himself. As has Dave Attenborough.
Timothys have always treated me well. In fact, you'd have be a nine-sided bastard to be called Timothy and not have me like you even a little.
Andrews I've had more trouble with. Some Andrews I know have been luminously golden beacons of fineness. Other have been complete granny twadges. So if you are an Andrew and I call you by your last name, you probably belong to the former category and I am trying to obliterate the latter category.
I've been lucky so far, as all my brothers and sisters have come up with pretty good names for their kids. Sure, they've thrown in a few yorkers, but by and large they've been tight on the birth certificate front. So here are a few names which I think you should really avoid calling your children. It's by no means comprehensive.
1. Adolf or Jesus. Anywhere either end of that spectrum is pretty dodgy. Same with Lucifer, Satan, Yahweh, Mephistopheles, Beelzebub, Stalin – no one else is going to get the joke. And if you're not joking, you shouldn't be breeding.
2. States, countries or cities – India or Indiana might sound sweet in the maternity ward, but the former did just beat us in the tri-nation cricket series, and the latter is only famous for that song which an eight year old and mightily ginger Ron Howard sang in The Music Man. When we're a hop, skip and a jump away from little girls called Utah, it's time to call a halt.
3. Any normal name spelled in a crazy way. There are thousands and thousands of baby name books out there, if you have to stick a wad of vowels and 'h's in a perfectly good name to make it more individual, then chances are your child is going to be, well, ordinary. They'll spend the rest of their school years spelling their name to their classmates who, because they probably all attend the same state school in Carrum Downs, will also be spelling their names to everyone else leaving precious little time for learning. Read more.
4. Naming your sprog after a product or brand name, like Omo, Spam or Honda Civic. The company isn't going to give you one and all you're gonna end up with is a kid with an inflated sense of ego every time he or she walks into a supermarket or a Geelong car yard. Notable exception: Harley Breen. GOD in BOY FORM.
5. Most flowers or plants. Rose or Violet or Acacia or Daisy are fine – although the last one is usually reserved for livestock. But if you're heading for the Red Hot Pokers and the Sturt's Desert Pea and the Stink Blossom, it's getting close to child abuse.
6. I'm sick of this last name as a first name thing. No more children named Quinn, for fuck's sake. I'll let off Mackenzie Crook, but if you insist on this ridiculous trend, go the whole hog and call your child Sidebottom or Farquar or Wanke (pronounced 'wanky'). Wanke is a real name, I met an old man called Mister Wanke when I was doing the Australian Census who either had a terrific sense of humour or a fucking hard life.
On the other hand, I do like it when people name their kids something old school like Agnes or Dolores or Dorothy. Good strong names – a challenge, but a worthy one. Lesley is fraught with danger – is it a boy or a girl? Similarly with Evelyn (pronounced EE-velyn if a boy, EV-elyn if a girl, as far as I understand) or Beverley (makes me think of Jeremy Irons in Dead Ringers) or Hillary (yep, it's a boy's name too). Jeremy, Maximillion, Christopher, Alexander are all good long names that can be shortened. Tread carefully around Richard, though. And Virginia could be given a rest, for obvious reasons. Corey is horrendous, and Courtney (boy or girl) isn't much better. But if your name is Brooke, you are the Anti-Christ. Every Brooke I've ever met has been like David Warner (another great Dave) in Time Bandits – really nasty and smoking with sulphur.
My name is Geraldine. I got it from my dad. For the love of God, practise safe sex.