I am quite old fashioned. To be fair, I am quite old. I changed my name each and every time I got married. It helps keeps the debt collectors on their toes and also wards off all but the most determined stalkers. But mostly I did it because I always wanted a cool name.

I had this dream that I would one day be on TV as an expert, holding a skull aloft, with Dr Cool Name running along the bottom of the screen. I did a Masters degree in dead bodies to address the skull part, but I haven’t yet managed to get on TV because of that. I did once go on Channel 4 news with Jon Snow though. Alas, I was between marriages, so my surname was Norman. (I was an expert in cybersex, if you were wondering. And yes, I was rather taken aback when the UK Government suggested we might “Retrain in Cyber”.)

Husband Number One had a fairly pedestrian name, not much different to Norman. No good at all. He had a pretty normal first name too — let’s call him Brian — but my Nan called him Bryn throughout our marriage. We gave up correcting her in the end. Silly old Nin.

So I cast the net wider the second time around and got myself a Scandinavian. His last name directly translates to “Wolf-Prairie” which I thought very cool, although odd, because although Finland has many natural wonders, prairies ain’t one of them. Sadly, no one, including me can pronounce the name properly and now my poor son is tortured by teachers mangling it on a daily basis. And perhaps further tortured by the obscure Finnish middle names we gave him.

Incidentally, I have never pronounced Husband Number Two’s first name properly. I’ll spell it for you: S-A-M-I. To the English eye, that’s Sammy. I did manage to pronounce it correctly once, when I drunkenly announced: “Oh! Say what you see!” like a drunk Ted Walker. Five minutes later and I was asking Sammee to come back to my hotel room. He didn’t seem to mind. For the record, it’s Sah-mih. Sah-mih. Just sounds daft.

So then to Husband Number Three. This time, French. Ho-he-ho. People will be able to pronounce his name, surely? After all, we have close ties to the French, lots of us have French blood, and our language is full of French words. But no. Even he Anglicises it when giving his name to people to save having to spell it. Fail.

I should have stuck with Mr Shorofsky back in secondary school. As well as being the name of the teacher in Fame, “Dr Shorofsky” has a real ring to it: “Hi, I’m Dr Shorofsky, what seems to be the problem?” See what I mean? I wonder what he’s doing now? Probably not wearing leg warmers any more, I don’t suppose.

My passport is still in the wrong name. I’d just changed it to Husband Number Two’s surname when that marriage went belly up. And it’s £75 to change it, so I’m waiting for it to expire. Hopefully my current marriage doesn’t expire before that happens.