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<p><strong>James Combes </strong>writes: </p><p>Your list only lightly skimed the plethora of daft place names in the UK. All indications point to one conclusion: the English like to define themselves by absurdity. There is no other explanation.&nbsp; Recently there was a reference to a place called &ldquo;Pratts Bottom&rdquo; in the Ouch! section of the <em>Guardian </em>(April 22nd, 2006). Every now and then the <em>Daily Mail</em> runs a two-page spread on daft place names. Some of the better ones are listed below: </p><p>&nbsp;Bedlam </p> <p>&nbsp;</p><p>Drinkers End</p><p>Souldrop</p><p>Tongue</p><p>Brawl</p><p>Ogle</p><p>Pity Me</p><p>Crackpot</p><p>Chipshop</p><p>Old</p><p>Seething</p><p>Cold Christmas</p><p>&nbsp;Cow Roast</p><p>Womensworld</p> <p>Imagine living in a place called Bedlam. Nobody would ever want to visit - well, apart from possibly James Blunt. Souldrop sounds like where the dead go to pass the time, and Drinker&rsquo;s End sounds like an unfortunate physiological condition brought on by nights of excess, resulting in disappointment for some fine lady who doesn&rsquo;t quite know what she&rsquo;s done wrong. A similar form of disappointment surely awaits anyone who answers the question &ldquo;where do you live?&rdquo; with Chipshop. </p> <p>&nbsp;Brawl sounds like a fun place. It conjurs up images of the Wild West: dusty, open roads, horses tethered at the side of the road, bars with wooden beams and saw-dust on the floor, Clint Eastwood as Mayor, strutting his stuff, asking people if they feel lucky ...</p> <p>Cow Roast is clearly the ideal place to go for Sunday lunch. Womensworld sounds like something out of <em>The</em> <em>Two Ronnies&rsquo;</em> &ldquo;The Worm That Turned&rdquo; serial. An England where women ruled, men wore the skirts and where Big Ben was Big Bertha.</p> <p>&nbsp;</p><p>Ogle and Pity Me are worth a mention. They do not inspire much confidence, and could result in some very clumsy, unfortunate exchanges if mistaken for conversational imperatives:</p> <p>&nbsp;&ldquo;So, where do you come from?&rdquo;</p> <p>&ldquo;Pity Me.&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;Only if you answer my question.&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;Pity Me.&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;Yes, but where do you come from.&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;Pity Me.&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;Why? What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;No. Pity Me. That&rsquo;s the name of the place.&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;Oh. You poor thing.&rdquo;</p> <p>&nbsp;Or maybe even:</p> <p>&nbsp;&ldquo;So, where do you come from.&rdquo;</p> <p>&ldquo;Ogle.&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon?&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;I said Ogle.&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;Only if you tell me where you&rsquo;re from.&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;No, that&rsquo;s where I am from.&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;Oh, I&rsquo;m sorry. Is it nice?&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;Not really, but the view isn&rsquo;t bad.&rdquo;</p> <p>&nbsp;But these are as nothing compared to Six Mile Bottom in Suffolk, Wyre Piddle in Worcestershire and the worryingly titled Spankers Hill Wood (what exactly goes on there, then?) in Richmond Park. There is something about the imagery involved that seems to invoke an involuntary chuckle. </p> <p>But whatever the English can do, the French can do better (or so they would like to think). Why else would there be a place called Condom? </p> <p>Though it&rsquo;s only safe to visit once.</p> <p>&nbsp;</p>