My upcoming nuptials are a source of great joy. I get to join with my beloved forever, and, most importantly, I get to take my wife’s surname.
Yeah, you heard right – I’m taking HER name. What madness is this, I hear you asking. Well, I believe in equality and I want a way of banging on about that forever, so this is the perfect choice for me.
My wife and I talked about the possibility of going double-barrelled, but it was clear that wouldn’t have given me sufficient opportunity to lord my feminist credentials over everyone, so I’m going to become Mr Jones.
This way, we get to truly strike a blow against the sexist, antiquated roots of the institution, and I get to make a total song and dance about changing every possible piece of paperwork in my life.
I’ve already been down to the HR department at work to enquire about the process and I saw the look of feminist awe on the face of the office assistant. And I was like: “Yeah. Exactly.”
I’m also having a feminist stag do, where we will go to a strip club, but wearing vagina deely-boppers and drinking through vagina straws.
And for all of those sexist, primitive types who say I’m only changing my name because it’s Cockburn and I’ve been bullied about it since school, I say this: fuck off. Feminism forever!
