In the most deliciously silly incident I’ve heard all week (yes, it’s been a lean week), Nicholas Cage has named his kid Kal-El. (He did it a while ago, I heard of it this week. Damn, my network always misses the important stuff.)

Now, as legions of comic book fans dance around naked in the street chanting, “We rule! We rule!”, it is a time for quiet contemplation here at the Bidikar quarters. Poor chap, is what struck me first. The kid, I mean, not Nick.

There is one upshot to this business, however, and that’s the fact that Kal-El will be idolised by his mates from the age of 3-8 years. But after that, God help him. And there is the sad chance that some of his friends might persuade him to jump out of a window, and then he will be, as we Python fans might put it, an ex-Kal-El.

But the good thing is that in a few years’ time he will be able to legally change his name to Clark Kent. And then he’ll be rid of the name of his silly parents. Or he might just turn out intelligent (however unlikely that might be), and persuade his dad to send him off the planet in a tiny space-ship, so that he will be far away from the bullies of his future.

But till then, we must stay quiet and wait. Perhaps next week we might hear of someone naming their kid ‘Dennis’. (Oh, you don’t think that’s funny? You really don’t know much, do you?)

Note: To that rare unfortunate soul who hasn’t understood a word of this – please visit this page.