‘Call me Chickenella!' How Guardian readers got their nicknames – and what they feel about them

The Guardian

13-07-2025

Nicknames are dying out, according to the Wall Street Journal, thanks to a fear of causing offence or sounding unprofessional. But they're not dead yet. We asked readers to tell us theirs, where they came from and how they feel about them.
My foster father gave me the nickname Weeb around 1995 – way before it meant someone who enjoys Japanese culture – because I have very thick, dark hair and, at that point, I was in my gawky teens. I fell over a lot. He said I looked like tumbleweed stumbling into rooms, then it became Weeb because of the 'b' in Phoebe. I've always loved it; it is one of many things my foster parents did, and still do, to make me feel loved and at home. I do have to keep explaining that I'm not particularly into anime to my 14-year-old's friends, though! Phoebe Pallotti, independent midwife, Sheffield
I'm Pine Cone – at least according to my girlfriend. It came about not long after we started spending time together. I was getting frustrated by a video game and she said: 'Have patience, young Pine Cone.' It turned out she had recently seen a meme of a pangolin being asked, 'Little pine cone, why do you drink?', to which the pangolin replied, 'To forget', while slurping water with its long tongue. I don't drink by licking, I rarely touch alcohol and I'm not particularly pine-cone-shaped, but it kind of stuck because of the absurdity. My girlfriend is the only one who calls me Pine Cone, but I don't remember the last time she called me anything else. Pine Cone, software developer, London
Through my teenage years, my nickname was Magic Pockets, as I always seemed to be the guy who had the right change, a working pen, a lighter, an important phone number … Sadly, the powers are now gone. I kind of liked the expression, as it sounded as if I was lucky, which has turned out to be mostly true. Robert Balcer, part-time teacher, Chiang Rai, Thailand
My given name is not easily shortened, but my Slovak-speaking grandma would call me Jojo. I never thought much about it until she died: I surprised myself by crying, knowing no one would call me Jojo again. That's when I became Jojo in my own self-talk. My officemates laugh when they hear me whisper 'C'mon, Jojo!' to myself. Joel Neubauer, Lutheran pastor, Virginia, US
I was called Plug, which might have been related to the character of the same name from the Bash Street Kids in the Beano, but I claim it was derived from the playing field adjacent to our house, where there was a broad selection of playground equipment. The roundabout was a favourite. It was divided into six segments and each of the neighbourhood children would claim ownership of a particular segment. Mine was the one that had the hole for lubricating the roundabout and it was sealed with a metal plug, hence my nickname. I accepted it quite happily. Anonymous, the Netherlands
I'm from London and after living in Italy for many years decided to move to Sri Lanka. Being a gelato chef, I opened a gelateria and named it Love Gelato. Local people often asked me what 'gelato' meant and I would explain the Italian meaning, but for some reason to this day I have not been able to get my explanation through – and I have become known as Gelato. When I'm out in the village where I live and I hear someone call, 'Hi Gelato!' I absolutely love it. I feel that I've made it in this life. Oz Qadir, Unawatuna, Sri Lanka
Growing up, most of my friends had older brothers and apparently I was especially short compared with them. Someone mentioned that I was like Master Shifu from the Kung Fu Panda movies and the nickname stuck – it's still used more than my real name. Master Shifu was wise and all-powerful, so I embrace it. Safar Yusuf, postgraduate student, Glasgow
One night, when we had been dating for about two years, I woke to find my husband sniffing me, saying I smelled like a little chicken. He laughed, then rolled over and fell back to sleep. In the morning I reminded him of this and he had no memory of doing it. From then on I've been Chicken. The story still amuses people, so it's stuck. In the past few years, it's become Chickenella. Jan, graphic designer, Hammersmith
My nickname is The Force, and it's all because of Bradley Walsh. In January 2021, I was on The Chase, and when asked what I would do if I won the prize, I answered that I'd take a career break and train as a professional wrestler. When Bradley asked what my wrestler nickname would be, I said: 'The Force of Nature'. After my cash builder round, Bradley went backstage with a grin on his face and a producer returned to ask if they could change my name plate for the show from 'Aidan' to 'Force'. I thought this was a really great idea, something a bit different, and the nickname has completely stuck. Aidan Jones, resource coordinator, North Yorkshire
My nickname is Buffy. I read somewhere that it was also the nickname of the queen mother, so I'm in good company. My mother used to keep diaries and I read an entry saying, 'Buffy is one!' – so it goes back that far. But I don't know exactly how it originated. My father was a fan of the American singer Buffy Sainte-Marie, so one theory is that it originated from that; someone else suggested it came from being 'in the buff' (naked). Caroline Jane Smith, recruiter, The Hague, the Netherlands
In primary school in Scotland, during the early 70s, I was given the nickname Punk. This was derived from the children's game Ker Plunk, a play on my surname. When punk rock finally made its way to Scotland in the 70s, the nickname became very fitting as I fully embraced the ethos of punk, which has stayed with me throughout my life. I'm still referred to as Punk by old schoolfriends, and I use the name as a pseudonym when posting pictures of meals I've cooked on social media, where I call myself Punk Floyd, which combines me (Punk) and Floyd (Keith, the late celebrity chef). James Kerr, retiree, Huntingdon
During my undergraduate years, I was given the nickname Bubbe, the Yiddish word for grandmother. Apparently, I gave off powerful enough grand-maternal vibes for it to stick for more than a decade. To be honest, I loved it and still do. Bubbe is a sweet word with lovely connotations – my imagination conjures an image of a woman who fiercely loves her bubeles, with a whipcrack wit and a pot of soup on the stove. Still, it confused some people, as I was, and remain, a balding man without grandchildren. Alex, college administrator, New York, US
My nickname is Podnil, or Pod, which derives from my surname (Lindop) backwards. I began using it in secondary school. When I began teaching in Spain, some people knew me as Pod, but newcomers were introduced to me as Chris. When my now husband arrived and began teaching, he kept hearing about this other teacher called Pod. Who was Pod and when would he meet them, he wondered. It was some weeks before he realised Chris and Pod were the same person. Recently, I spent a few days in hospital and was always addressed as Christine. I found that quite startling. Christine Lindop, retired writer and editor, Bristol
My nickname is Rags. It originated when I was 16: my friends and I were at a loose end on the night of our Intercert results – the state exams in Ireland. There was not much on offer as a distraction in our North Kerry town, but the local cinema was showing The Exorcist and age limits were not really enforced, so we got in. The name of the young female character was Regan, my surname; her nickname was Rags. It stuck to me like glue since that night in 1980 and I love it. It is very much part of my personal story and many people only know me as Rags. I still get a thrill when I get a letter addressed to Rags or a table setting has just the name Rags at an event. Catherine Regan, semi-retired lawyer, north Wales and North Kerry
When I was about 16, a mate started calling me Ali Baba, which became Babs. Soon all my mates were calling me Babs and by the time I left school no one called me anything else. When I met new people I'd always introduce myself by my real name, but among schoolfriends I was always Babs. I tried to shake it but it seemed unnatural when my close pals called me Alasdair. I'm now teaching the kids of people I was at school with, and sometimes they say: 'My dad says you get called Babs!' Sometimes I feel a bit daft being a 45-year-old man called Babs, but I've made my peace with it. Alasdair Allan, teacher, Helensburgh, Scotland
My nickname as a child was Chiffonette. My French mother was always upset about the state of my clothes when I came home from playing outdoors. She thought they looked like 'chiffons', meaning rags, and so she started calling me Chiffonette, and that is how I was known in my street. I didn't mind my nickname: it really described my appearance and I now associate it with the fun I had playing outdoors without giving a thought to the state of my clothes. Alexandra Lavizzari, Somerset
My stepdad has called me Rooney for as long as I remember. It isn't after Wayne Rooney, even though I did play football when I was younger, and he has no idea how it started. I suspect it came from Zachary (my full first name), which became Zacharooney, then just Rooney. But truth be told, I have no idea. I like it – no one else calls me that, so it's a unique thing between us. Zach Wheelhouse Steel, social media manager, Badminton, Gloucestershire
My nickname is Bits – coined by our former neighbour's son. It was about 50 years ago and he'd come around for tea. He was fascinated by the fact such a tiny child loved cabbage and wanted to finish the unwanted, overcooked green mush. As he saw me eagerly scoop up his leftovers, he said I liked to eat the 'bits'. From then on it became my nickname, adopted by my seven older brothers and sisters. I love it. It's morphed over time to Bitsy or Bitties, but Bits gives me the warmest glow of childhood: I was good at something – eating my dear, frazzled Irish mum's cabbage. Precious. Patsy McGill, psychotherapist, Derbyshire
My former partner and I used to pet sit together and we came across an advert for a whippet named Minkie. One day soon after, I called him using what I imagined Minkie's voice would sound like, if she could talk. I left a message, which my ex-partner thought was hilarious. Every now and then, Minkie would make another call to him. He started calling me Minkie and the name stuck. I now call him Monkey. Anonymous, Norfolk
When I was born, my parents nicknamed me Jelly – apparently because I wiggled in my crib like a little jelly bean – and it stuck. I'm really not an Ange and definitely not an Angel. I've always been Jelly to my friends, to my teachers throughout school, to my students, to my colleagues and strangers. I love it – it's who I am. Angelica Hill, linguist, Amsterdam