Boris’ manifesto for change

CHANGE OF NAME BY DEED POLL

Queen’s Bench Division Enforcement Section Room E15 The Royal Courts of Justice Strand London WC2A 2LL

Dear Sir or Madam:

CHANGE OF NAME BY DEED POLL

Please find enclosed a cheque for £36.00 and the following completed forms.

1. LOC020 – Change of Name Deed for an Adult Form (DEED POLL)

2. LOC021 – Statutory Declaration for an adult

3. LOC025 – Notice for the London Gazette for an adult

I am required to have two witnesses for this procedure, who I name as Roger and Caroline, my owners.

You will note that I do not have a formal surname, but my kennel name at birth was ‘Fat Bastard Three Spots’if that helps. I am not proud of that one either.

I am happy to swear on the Holy Bible, but will need to borrow one from Carla, next door, as ours is incomplete. I inadvertently ate through from Leviticus through to Deuteronomy one night when bored.

I note that I am not required to give a reason for the name change, but I would like to, and I would like it published in the London Gazette along with the rest of it. I would like people to know that for eight years I was called, simply, Boris, but I do not want to be any more. I was named after my father, Boris the Dorset farm dog who occasionally (like the night I was conceived), lacked discretion but never lacked manners.

However, the name Boris has now descended into a farce with which I no longer wish to be associated. Being overly randy is fine- (I am a dog after all)- as is having no plan beyond what comes into my head on the spur of the moment: that’s what dogs do. I am personally neutral on Europe, not having the faintest clue where it is or what they do there, so I am not complaining on that score either. I am just grateful that it is apparently not part of the world where dogs are on the menu. I can live with the lies, the bluster, the buffoonery, the bullshit, the bullying and the evasion: none of us are perfect, and who am I to judge?

What I cannot live with is this. I sense with my miniscule canine brain that something big and unfair is about to happen. I sense that a very small group of people, some of them rather cross and tetchy, are going to inflict a very bad choice on the rest of us, which will do us harm for years. I sense that we are about to be shafted, and that my name is going to become a dirty word for the rest of my natural lifespan. I like my name, but find I no longer wish to live with it.

For that reason, I wish from now on to be called Rory, or Jeremy, or Sajid, or Michael or anything but…

Boris.