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Meet our Mr Bean ...
What's in a name? Well, you can keep your Billinghams, Barnes or Bracegirdles - because, after something like three decades here in HJ land, I'm quite happy being Wigan's adopted Mr Bean.
After approaching half a century of this largely fruitful partnership, there are no real plans for divorce.
I've grown up surrounded by good-natured mirth over this short but snappy surname of mine.
It saves on ink when I'm signing yet another cheque for the daughter .
It has come to my rescue as an awkward silence-shattering ruse when trying (unsuccessfully!) to chat up the ladies.
As well as a great byline for a newspaperman because, invariably, it's unusual enough for people to remember who they were talking to ... and who to ask for next time.
But there hasn't always been such a comfortable accommodation.
"A Million Housewives Every Day" they would chant at me in the playground back home in Stoke.
Kids in my day delighted in that immortal TV ad and you could hear it being repeated parrot-fashion in playgrounds around the country in the 1960s.
Beanz really did mean Heinz, but with the odd spiteful shove between the shoulders thrown in for good measure.
I swear that for the first few years of my life I really did think my Christian name was Baked.
My mum even reckons that I very nearly failed to make an entrance into this world at all, because of it.
Apparently when my future father came a calling, she was determined that she absolutely wouldn't be accompanying him to his local Potteries movie flea pit, endearingly known by all and sundry as "The scratch" for obvious reasons.
And it wasn't the threat of various biting insects or being bouncing-bombed Barnes Wallis-style by popcorn-wielding ruffians in the circle above.
"I'm not going out with anybody called Bean," she confided to her sister.
"Just imagine the shame!"
But, having survived the blackboard jungle, my mickey-taking burden went up several gears immediately following the evening of October 31 1995.
At first I failed to realise the significance of this auspicious day.
But before the week was out the marvellous Rowan Atkinson's teddy-cuddling, Austin Mini-abusing, anti-hero had introduced the nation to a whole new reason to take a rise at yours truly.
Take a new bow Mr Bean.
Receptionists started covering the telephone receiver when I called in an often unsuccessful attempt to muffle their chuckles.
Restaurants declined to accept my bookings, believing they were being stitched up by that washer-up they fired the previous week.
Many firms just refused point blank to accept that anybody could have such a daft surname.
And I have a sheaf of receipts for everything from new televisions to washing machine repairs made out, instead, to a non-existent Mr Dean.
With the exception, that is, of the ever professional staff at Kitt Green's finest themselves.
"Mr Bean of the Obbie" has hit them over the years with regular journalistic inquiries about workforce pay battles, the possibility of green ketchup and Cross and Blackwell pretenders to the throne.
And they never raise an eyebrow, never mind a titter.
I love Heinz baked beans.
And this daft name of mine.
I wouldn't swap either of them.
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Weather for Wigan
Friday 10 February 2012
Today
Cloudy
Temperature: -6 C to 3 C
Wind Speed: 15 mph
Wind direction: South east
Tomorrow
Sunny spells
Temperature: -1 C to 1 C
Wind Speed: 3 mph
Wind direction: South
