...never let your fellow prisoners at school (it seemed like that at the time - overdramatic, I understand) know what your middle initial stands for.
In fact, don't let them know what your middle initial is - and avoid the problem at all.
Actually, I quite like the name. It's grown on me over the years.
Quick. What song springs to mind when you hear the name 'Jude'? And there you go. Answering (or not, being the contrarian I have always been) to "Hey! J..." yelled out at random for what seemed, then, like f.o.r.e.v.e.r - sours you on the whole thing after a while.
Worse yet when some Eng. Lit. had been driven through our mightily resistant skulls and we get to "Jude The Obscure".
And, of course, the good man has been anointed the patron saint of hopeless cases and lost causes. An Irish Catholic upbringing can be a terrible thing.
Ah, boys will be boys...
We'll not mention how easily Jude can become Judy.
Though, oddly enough, I took a perverse pleasure in that. Probably best to leave that for another blog post.