Naming an animal is incredibly hard. When we got our first dog in 1990, a pedigree golden retriever who would later turn out to be the most allergic animal in Britain, we had to name her something beginning with an F, as though she were a newly-minted Volkswagen instead of a fluffy little ball of carsickness.
I chose Flora. My younger brother chose Frank Bruno. Sadly for Flora, I won.
Last week I named my future cat Colonel Aurelio Buendia on the basis that I can call it Cab for short, and Ted Bundy when it behaves like an utter bastard. I am terrible at naming animals. Sometimes, simple is best. Like Steve. Or this lot.