I knew from an early age I wasn’t the only John Martin in the world.
My father was called John Martin, as was his father.
But the problem has only got worse as I’ve grown older.
Now there are so many John Martins in the world that I’ve occasionally wondered whether we’re entitled to a collective noun. A flock of John Martins, perhaps? A confusion of John Martins? Or a worry of John Martins?
So today’s column is not so much about me as all about them.
