I WAS intrigued to read how many people had changed their name by deed poll this year.

More than 90,000, fed up with their own moniker, had opted for alternatives such as Willy Wonka, Miss Jelly St Tots and Her Majesty The Queen.

A spokesman for the Legal Deed Poll Service said: “While many sought to make the alteration due to divorce, boredom or to bring a bit of cheer to their lives, others said they just fancied a change.”

Which is understandable. Earlier this year I got a certificate from an internet site making my mate Kev the Duke of Honley because he fancied a change. And I must say that his elevation to the aristocracy has changed him very little.

He does not insist that I call him the most noble Kevin, Duke of Honley, or your grace, or even sir. “Just call me, What Would You Like To Drink,’’ he says, so a simple knuckling of my forelock and occasional pint of lager seems to suffice.

During the same internet transaction I got myself and chum Ian Doctorates of Silliness from the University of Silly. Mainly because we are both rather silly.

Another old friend, Jake Jonathan Z Mangel Wurzel, made name changes a part of his career as an eccentric. He had many but the one I liked above all others was T H E Occupier because he kept getting so much junk mail. He even had a valid Visa account under that name.

Personally, I’m seriously thinking of changing my name to J K Rowling on the grounds of prestige and money.

I would have gone about this the honest way and written a series of novels about Harry Potter but she’s already done it. All the best ideas go first, don’t they? So I thought instead I could practice her signature and discover which bank she keeps her £500m in and I could have a very merry Christmas. Plus the kudos.

“You’re J K Rowling? But I thought she was a woman.”

“Just a ploy to avoid intrusive publicity. Of course you can have an autograph. They’re £10 each or two for 15 quid.”