This Side of the Pond

Everything changes, nothing lasts forever: these are facts we are all expected to live with. Unless your name is Nigel, in which case a formal request has been sent for your assistance in raging at the dying of the light.

A pub landlord over in the UK is asking every Nigel in the world to head through his doors next year for a prestigious event known as “Nigel Night.” And if you scoffed as you read that sentence because it seems unlikely we’ll find any Nigels to send, you should know that the last Nigel Night in 2019 included a guest all the way from Texas.

Nigel isn’t a common name in America, it’s true. But then, Britain isn’t exactly bursting at the seams with Nigels any more either, and that’s exactly what this particular Nigel is upset about.

In 1963, the year he was born, he reckons there were more than 5000 Nigels born in the United Kingdom. Last year, there weren’t any new Nigels at all.

To me, this seems adequate evidence that nobody likes the name any more, which I could have told you without even a glance at the statistics. In case it’s so unfamiliar to you that you’re not even sure how to say it out loud, the pronunciation is, “NY-jul.”

When the specific Nigel we’re talking about (he shouldn’t be too hard to spot, there aren’t that many of them) first launched his effort to revive the name, a grand total of 433 Nigels turned up at his pub in Worcestershire. This time, he’s aiming for a cool thousand.

As he appears realistic in his understanding of the lack of Nigels with which to fill out the guest list, he’s planning to pad the numbers by inviting parents of Nigels, too. They, however, will not be on the VIP list like the real Nigels, who will all receive a free pint of beer.

He’s also offering prizes to anyone who is currently pregnant and prepared to promise they will name their child Nigel. I have no further information as to what you might win, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say it will likely be monogrammed with the name “Nigel.”

Much as I might mock, there is something sad about the demise of a name I used to hear everywhere when I was a whippersnapper. It was as ubiquitous as Bob, Fred or Charles back in the day.

It isn’t even the only name on the extinction list in the UK, and some of them came as a shock. According to the Office for National Statistics, which releases an annual list of the most popular baby names, we might soon only find Rons and Nevilles on the pages of a Harry Potter novel.

Keith and Gordon are both on the way out, as well as Sally and Maureen for the ladies. Even Carol, Susan and Jonathan are in danger, and I’d thought those among the most common names of all.

Apparently, there were more babies in the UK named Orfeas last year than there were Nigels, Trevors or Gordons, and I’ve never met a single Orfeas in my life. My own name didn’t even make the top 100 when there were three of us in my class alone at high school – a ninth of the total number of girls.

It’s all about pop culture and standing out from the crowd these days. The rise of the name Archie, for instance, is believed to be the fault of Meghan and Harry, while Margot has been increasing in popularity since Margot Robbie burst onto the movie scene.

Of course, I’ve long known that the most popular names on this side of the pond are different to the ones I’m used to. Some of our more common choices are statistically nonexistent here, I’ve come to find out.

I won’t find a Huw in the States, though I might stumble across the English spelling of the name, which is Hugh. I’m told that no such thing exists as a Fearne in this nation, nor a Fleur, a Dougie or a Dulcie.

Ironically, one name that still sits within the top 500 in the UK was wiped out in America by a dinosaur. Not just any old dinosaur, either – this one was purple. I speak, of course, of Barney, whose existence apparently dissuaded any American parent from using that name for their child, ever again.

Some of the names that never crossed the pond may have failed to do so because nobody knew how to pronounce them. This is because many of the old Gaelic and Celtic names are spelled in a manner that has little to do with how they are said.

Take Roison, for example, which is pronounced “ro-SHEEN,” or Aoife, which is “EE-fa” when said out loud. The Irish are famed for this defiance of linguistic norms: Niamh, for instance, is “neev,” while Caoimhe is “KEY-va.”

My favorite comedian once summed up this disconnect when reciting a list of ancient deities, to which she added a new one: “Siobhan, the God of Dangerous Spelling.” (In case you’re wondering, it’s pronounced “shu-VAWN.”)

So no, I wouldn’t blame you for leaving some of these names behind. Not being able to yell for your own kids would be a terrible self-inflicted fate.

But I do think we should work on introducing some of the simpler British names to this side of the pond. What could be the harm in scattering a few Barneys and Fearnes here and there? And if you’re brave enough to opt for a Nigel, don’t forget there could be a prize in it for you, not to mention that free pint of beer.