For the sequence of events to make sense that I am about to tell you about, it is important to know that for a while now I have been hearing about one of my flatmate’s friends whose very unfortunate name is “Guy Cockhead”. That is his real name. Poor Guy.
Anyway, the other day I went to a gig with my flatmate (Colin) where he introduced me to Guy. I was really glad to finally put a face to that name. Our conversation went something like this:
Colin: Guy, this is my flatmate, Julia. Julia, meet Guy.
Guy: Hi Julia.
Me: Ah, You’re Guy… Cockhead?
Guy: *Disgruntled* Uh-huh.
I consequently thought to myself how can Guy not have a chuckle every time someone says his name? I mean, he didn’t even flinch, not a hint of a smile. If it were my name I’d probably burst into histerical laughter every time someone said it out loud.
That is however besides the point.
About a week after the gig, I told Colin that I was so glad that I had finally met Guy Cockhead. Colin was a bit puzzled as to when I had met him. Of course I thought nothing of it and replied “the other night at that gig we went to, don’t you remember?”. Turns out that Guy wasn’t Guy Cockhead, but a different Guy altogether. No wonder he wasn’t amused when I called him cockhead… Ouch.