Russell Kirkpatrick's Journal
Children's names can also be bizarre. Witness the New Plymouth judge who temporarily deprived parents of custody of their child 'Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii' (last name withheld). http://www.stuff.co.nz/4628719a10.html
Other names mentioned in the article are Fish and Chips (twins), Masport and Mower (twins); boys Yeah Detroit, Spiral Cicada, Kaos, Stallion and Hitler; girls Cinderella Beauty Blossom and Twisty Poi; and sex unknown Keenan Got Lucky and Sex Fruit.
I personally knew the Pacific Island cousins Hurricane and Relief: Hurricane was a week or so older than his cousin. You can work out how they got names, right? Another great island name was Hitro Okasene (he played rugby league for the Warriors) - Hydro Oxygen, or water.
Come on, then ...
You know, people with names coincident with their work (Mr Lamb was for a time the head of the Meat Marketing Board, the local dentist called Mr Payne, that sort of thing).
Well, there's a cliff threatening to come tumbling down on tourist operators in Central Otago. (A short distance from where my aunt lives, by the way.)
Rafting operations have been shut down for a week waiting for this darn cliff to fall. I was intrigued to note the name of the Totally Tourism representative quoted in the story: Mark Quickfall.
If only, Mark.
Anyone else know some interesting Unlikely Names?
Yesterday Dorinda's mum, who lived with us for over twenty years, passed away. Like all people, she was a glorious mixture of the admirable and the irritating, but the fact that my mother-in-law lived with us for such a long time shows how easy-going she was.
We'll miss her.
That's what you're getting today - mental bubble and squeak.
I've been indulging my passion for music this week - went to The Mars Volta last week and thoroughly enjoyed it. Then I *ahem* found a copy of my all-time favourite live band's best performance, The Cardiacs live at some church somewhere at an event called Maresnest. Boy, this lot have presence. The music is flat-out weird, a mix of punk, ska, prog and metal.
Then there's a well-known New Zealand sports reporter who has been passing judgment on sportspeople as role models for the last few years, and has lamented publicly the unwillngness of sports celebrities to share their intimate details. Dear oh dear, Tony Veitch, it seems a while ago now you bashed up your girlfriend and put her in hospital with serious injuries. She subsequently had a breakdown. So, in fear of your job as a radio and TV sports host, you paid her a six-figure sum to keep her trap shut.
It's caught up to you now, sunshine. And what was your response when the media came to you for the intimate details? That's right, 'No comment'. Oh, and it looks like you'll be keeping your job. Tell you this, I'm a sports fan, but bashing your partner isn't sport, sport. It's assault. I won't be listening to your radio station or watching your TV network until you fess up like a man and resign. Go away, Mr Veitch. Go and get help.
Still writing the last book in the Husk/Broken Man trilogy. Pulling the threads of five novels together isn't easy, and as much as I'm enjoying it, it's the first time I've felt pressure like this. I wonder how I'll handle it?