While I’m not sure my or my spouse’s parents could ever really fit the bogan criteria, they did, however, choose to give us bogan names. Candy and Kelvin, for the mid 1970s, not that bogan in comparison to say; Moonbeam, Skylar or Mercedes (or names where the right letters for spelling that name are substituted with x,y or z), but a little bogan nonetheless.

These names gifted to us for eternity (are you paying attention to that point? Labelled for eternity, mums and dads) while somewhat unusual and a little pretty, led us to a life of constantly having to spell our names to everyone.

As a cop my name was often met with disbelief “is that really your name?”, it was often hard to get taken seriously after being introduced.

I’ve often heard it postulated that a name shapes that persons career, so I probably should have been a stripper. To add to the fun, my name is hyphenated. Yeah. Candy-Lea is my moniker, so I don’t have a middle name. That may sound efficient and neat, but is often questioned by authorities.

A Mr Colin Sureiamafairdin kumaussie* from a certain Australian telecommunications network call centre based in India, told me that I had to have a middle name and that maybe I hadn’t been told it (no, I’m not kidding).

I guess it could've been worse, I could be Lee-a, which I'm informed should be pronounced Leedasha. I hear you groaning.

But it doesn't stop there. The boganess of our names was multiplied when we met, fell in love and married. Candy and Kelvin has a certain Kath and Kim quality to it don't you think? So it seemed prudent, that our offspring not be encumbered by the tedium that comes with a bogan name, or so they should've been.

I know how these names happen, really I do. This is because I am guilty of giving my first born son a bogan name, he will forever be spelling his name to people. I was 21 and full of ideas, I thought his name was all kinds of awesome. So Taran, mate, consider this my official apology. I don’t know what I was thinking.