ZULULAND LETTER: Name game madness which is most unfair

I ALWAYS thought of myself as someone who follows popular opinion, for the most part.

I would generally agree with the views of those in my circle, and where I could not, there was some sort of common ground that we could all agree on.

I’ve come to realise that this is no longer the case and that the Trumpesque looking glass has come to distort every aspect of reality I once thought to be within reach.

And it doesn’t have to go so far as global politics to have me running for the bunker.

It’s the everyday things that have awakened me to the madness that is modern-day living.

Children’s names are a good indicator of where we’re at socially, and let me tell you, it’s a strange space we’ve wandered into.

Where a classroom of children would all generally have the go-to names – Jessica, James, Nosipho and Serena – with perhaps a couple of ‘Sunshines’ and ‘Rivers’ thrown in, we are now seeing the majority of classes with names only celebrities would feel compelled to bestow on their loin fruit.

Biblical names are making some real inroads, but not the traditional Mark, Matthew and Mary. No. People are looking to stand out. So, we’re now addressing birthday party invitations to Meshach, Salome and Thaddeus.

These, at least, are emanating from some literary realm and maybe the parents do feel some spiritual connection, but those seemingly made-up names just have me spellbound. Cason, Kolby, Rayna, Landyn…maybe these are common names somewhere, but it’s no place I’ve ever been.

And I’m sure I will get my head around this and eventually move on, but now parents are going after spelling as well. Spelling. Of names. I just can’t.

Alexxander. (Why, oh why, does that name need another ‘x’?!).

Kristopher. (Were people getting confused and pronouncing the ‘ch’ sound?).

Zoie. (Nobody is going to pronounce that correctly when read. It’s not possible).

Aleigha. (Just looks like the parents stuck their hands in a scrabble bag and went from there).

The suffering these children are going to experience going through life, having to explain their names, correcting everybody, trying to hide from the cops but they can’t because there’s only one Xzavier Aidyn von Loggerenberg in the world.

It’s just not fair. And then the poor teachers trying to remember these. The pain is endless.

But last week I started to feel as though I could go on. That somehow, I could come to terms with the naming madness.

And then I went to the vet. On the notice board was a picture of two happy dogs – Abigail and Hitler.

‘Hitler?’ I asked the receptionist with some rightful sense of disbelief, wondering when in the past eight decades it became a good idea to name one’s beloved family pet after history’s most notorious dictator and the proud originator of the second World War.

‘I know,’ she said, astonished. And then added, to my complete and utter dismay: ‘It’s usually only the bigger dogs that are called Hitler.’

Good Goebbels.