When I first took the simple city girl that is The Divine Miss P and dragged her down my luxurious country abode, ignoring the lamentations of London's menfolk, any of whom I could have taken in a fight btw, I quickly decided that the matter of Cornwall And Its Many Funny-Sounding Placenames would have to be dealt with really quite carefully.
Bad enough with Paul Pennyfeather, who can't go to Bristol without ringing me in high-pitched voice and squeaking 'Bristols! Tee hee hee!', and still regularly falls over trying to work out which local newspaper slogan sounds funniest: 'Pick Up A Cornishman', or 'Why Not Grope A Falmouth Packet' (I made the second one up).
So yesterday, when Miss P and I travelled deep into the heart of Cornwall to pick up a second-hand bed that by the way looks a lot girlier in RL than it did on the photo on ebay, my first thought was to make sure we passed neither Indian Queens (tee hee!) or Praze an Beeble (just silly). Neither did we go anywhere near Cornwall's highest geographical feature, a proto-mountain called Brown Willy.
We did, however, go past a place called 'Ventongimps', the derivation of which I don't really want to think about. Much mirth was caused, but there we are, I thought, that's about it. Cornwall has a number of rather odd place names, and we're through the worst of it. A certain acclimatization has taken place, and from now on, there is no village name silly, or rude, or just plain saucy enough to cause any reaction at all.
Four minutes later, we drive through a village called 'Cocks'.
UPDATE: for those asking about the interview thing with Agent Matt, he's been on holiday recently, and gave profuse apologies for not completing the thing before he went away. However he is now back, so I shall shout at him.