When I was born, my mother wanted to call me Ruskin. My father wouldn’t allow this, believing that other children at school would nickname me ‘Foreskin’. It was sensible advice, and the name was shelved. Sadly, Nostradamus’ prophetic vision only worked once: he was so busy congratulating himself, he somehow let ‘Benedict’ slip in under the radar, heralding a lifetime of ‘Bendydick,’ ‘Ben’sadick,’ ‘Ben-no-dick’ and, worst of all, ‘Dominic.’ And that was just from the teachers.
The lesson here is that names are important, and doubly so if the baby is a baby of significance. Archie Harrison will never be king. That hasn’t stopped the nation obsessing over the importance of his name – from the American feel of ‘Harrison’ to whether or not ‘Archie’ is short for anything.
Personally, I’m a little disappointed Harry and Meghan ruled out the following options. Just think how much more we would have all had to talk about:
Perhaps the best known product of the Anglosphere, Boris Johnson was born in New York but is the darling of conservative Britain. Having fallen short of becoming king of the world, and, indeed, prime minister, naming their son in tribute to the man may go some way towards sating his ego. Or just inflate it further to the point he explodes. A win-win situation.
2. Royal Yacht Britannia
A sore spot for some years now, there has been a steady stream of lobbying for the Queen to have a new yacht for reasons of diplomacy, prestige, and visiting Philip’s family in the Aegean every summer. It still looks unlikely, but this way the family can have a permanent reminder of what could have been. Plus in the event of a war, we can rename him HMS Ark Royal and press him into service launching attacks on enemy convoys.
3. Don’t Know
Seeing as he will never be king, the only way the kid is ever going to have any real power is by entering politics — and the polls currently show a healthy lead for Don’t Know when it comes to who the public think should be prime minister. Give the people what they deserve: A bawling, stinking, vomiting child he may be, but he isn’t an antisemite nor a barnacle in a Vivienne Westwood coat.
Another winning UK-US combination, it would be two Churchillian fingers up to the German-led EU superstate, and, if rumours of a royal rift are to be believed, Prince George when he becomes king. Imagine trying to compete as a stuffy old monarch with a younger unbound cousin called Overlord.
Well it was worth a go. Let’s see how you like it, kid.
When Christ was born, the Lord placed in the sky a shining star to light the way of the Magi to his manger. When Zaphod Beeblebrox emerged into the universe, it is said that the birth was marked by earthquakes, tidal waves, tornadoes, firestorms, and the explosion of three neighbouring stars. Yesterday, on the birth of this precious child, God sent Big Divock Origi to score two goals for Liverpool against Barcelona. It’s surely a sign?
‘Meghan delivers Brexit.’ You can already see it splashed across the front pages as she holds aloft the little bundle of joy. It will unite the people, stop the sniping, and would mean Theresa May could finally resign, saving us all from death by exasperation. What’s not to like about this plan? How will it turn out? No one knows — all we know is, the country is in need of a fresh, clean Brexit, and this one will do nicely.
In tribute to a British cultural icon, and the patron saint of ginger people, to whom, if Harry won’t willingly sacrifice his firstborn son to appease, he should really name in honor of. It’s gender neutral, too, so Meghan will love that.
The name of the king of England who was subject to the treasonous gunpowder plot, and the king who was unceremoniously removed in the Glorious Revolution. If ever you were going to troll an unruly parliament or your elder brother, the future king, it would be this. I’m sure there are other reasons to call the kid James, but for the life of me, I can’t remember what they are.