What a balls up!

As you may already know, I get a wide range of awesome letters lighting up my inbox every week, in response to the Sunday Times column.

And they really came flooding in this week, in response to the nominative determinism column.

One in particular made my day:

So I thought I’d share parts of it with you:

Hi Paige,
That’s also an interesting one for me, if I may admit.
From what I have observed, it looks more like one’s parents’ future aspirations hold sway in as far as the meaning of a name is concerned.

Just don’t remind me that my surname used to be “TESTICLES” (in Setswana), shortly before the outbreak of the second world war. Needless to say this proved to be a strict no-no for my late grandfather (who was a Wesleyan church pastor by profession). So he convened a gathering of our extended family to request a change of our surname, which they all agreed to.

yours sincerly etc etc
The ex-Mr Testicles

So I guess with that in mind I should be grateful my surname is simply Nick: to steal/pinch/walk off with/lift/pocket/filch/pilfer/cut/scratch or notch, and not anything a little more graphic.