On the weekend I was shown a friend's cousin's baby called Colin.

A baby shouldn't have to wait 35 years to grow into it's name. I kept picturing this thing with a hearty moustache and horn-rimmed glasses to try and force myself to picture this thing as a Colin, but all that brought to mind were those disturbing calendars where the babies are dressed up as grown-ups and sitting on tractors wearing ray-bans.

See also the baby I met last year called Bruce.