I blame the parents

Having been born on a different planet and a couple of dozen decades ago, I can only look on with open-mouthed astonishment at the names with which celebrities burden their innocent offspring.
The latest newborn to be saddled with ridiculous monikers is Jame Oliver’s third daughter who, Gawd bless her, will have to grow up in the same house as the people who named her Petal Blossom Rainbow.
Petal Blossom Rainbow?
Which court in the land would find the poor lass guilty if, in her teenage years, she flipped and gunned down her parents in an act of stonkingly bonkers but cacklingly joyous revenge?
Mind you, Jamie and Jools have previous in this area. Already they have presented the planet with Poppy Honey and Daisy Boo.
Now I’m not privy to this couple’s private life, and what, if any, recreational drugs they like to indulge in, but surely alcohol – at the very least – must play a part in this.
Like eating a kebab, nobody would come up with those names when stone cold sober.
Unless, that is, they had been watching some of those films apparently so enjoyed by the husband of the Home Secretary
Not that really silly names are anything new. Some of a certain age will remember a geezer called Frank Zappa, who called his kids Moon Unit and Dweezil, and there have been dozens since.
My favourite in the Psychologically Damaged For Life category goes to the distressed little mite lumbered with Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii – true, every word.
But in a merciful act of sanity, a judge in New Zealand made her a ward of court so she could get shot of it. We are not told what new name she chose, which is a pity as we could have had even more fun.
Indeed, various countries ban parents from giving kids silly names, but all countries should have one strict no-no.
Under no circumstances whatsoever should a child be named after the place of conception (please note, Posh and Becks).
And if you don’t agree, I’d like to introduce you to Number 16 Bus Shelter.
Honestly, cross my heart and hope to die.