It’s always the hideously posh Harold Lloyd lookalikes that you have to watch. Who among us knew that Tory MP and living caricature Jacob Rees-Mogg was an unrelenting sex machine? It turns out that unfortunately he is, and now that I’ve implanted the image of the beanpole politician engaging in a vigorous act of sexual congress into your mind, you’re just going to have to deal with it.

The media has been enchanted this week following the news that the beanpole politician has now fathered six children, following the arrival of Sixtus Dominic Boniface Christopher. Young Sixtus joins Tom Wentworth Somerset Dunstan, Peter Theodore Alphege, Anselm Charles Fitzwilliam and Alfred Wulfric Leyson Pius in the Rees-Mogg Mad Name Squad. There’s a sole sister, too, but she’s just got more usual names – Mary Anne Charlotte Emma – which itself raises a whole host of questions.

There’s something about being in the public eye that rots the brain when it comes to the naming of younglings. Hand a famous figure a small bundle of joy and all rational thought seems to vanish in a puff of psychedelic smoke.

Magician Penn Jillette has wowed us for decades with his elaborate illusions, but perhaps his most fantastical and worst stunt was saddling his kid with the name Moxie CrimeFighter. I wonder if he hangs around with Audio Science, the son of actor Shannyn Sossamon?

Helena and I announce with great joy that we have a baby Sixtus Dominic Boniface Christopher, a brother for Peter, Mary, Thomas, Anselm and Alfred. A post shared by Jacob Rees-Mogg (@jacob_rees_mogg) on Jul 5, 2017 at 12:18am PDT

If you’re reading this, Bronx Mowgli Wentz (son of Ashlee Simpson and Pete Wentz of Fall Out Boy), I want you to know that we’re all right behind you and will support you if you ever decide to change it by deed poll to something less horrendous, like Roy or Trevor. A similar message goes out to the son of actor Jason Lee – the star was inexplicably complicit in naming an actual baby human Pilot Inspektor.

That’s America though – they do things differently there, right? Wrong. Say hello to Jamie Oliver’s young mob – Poppy Honey Rosie, Daisy Boo Pamela, Petal Blossom Rainbow, Buddy Bear Maurice and River Rocket. It all seems cute now, but gaze into the distant future and try to imagine being a 77-year-old with chronic arthritis, a hacking cough that won’t go away and the name Buddy Bear to deal with too. So much pain.

Then there’s Helen Baxendale’s brood – Nell Marmalade, Eric Mustard and Vincent Mash. No, really. “Their middle names were a bit of stupidity on the way to the register office,” laughed Helen in a recent interview. Perhaps we need to follow the example of Sweden and implement strict naming laws with strict punishments for celebrities who take the piss.

Another notable offender is former Hollyoaks actor and low-level media irritant Paul Danan, who has sired a son who he has burdened with the name DeNiro. That’s Paul Danan. From Hollyoaks. It’s comparable to Olly Murs becoming a father and naming his sprog, oh let’s say, Sinatra.

Mind you, clanging lapses of taste and sense aren’t the sole preserve of the rich and famous – I once heard of someone who lived in Byker on the outskirts of Newcastle (yeah, OK, I haven’t exactly double-sourced it) whose neighbours on either side had saddled their offspring with the names Keegan and Chlamydia.

Perhaps Jacob Rees-Mogg has actually shown us the way forward by naming his sixth child Sixtus. Also, I’m now implanting the image of Jacob having sex SIX times, in six different locations and positions. It’s inside your mind now, and it’s not going to go away any time soon. I’m not even sorry.

Maybe we should just number our children instead of going to the lengths of naming them and running the risk of coming up with something that will lead to widespread scorn or embarrassment for the kids once they’re older. Imagine if you were a gawky, awkward teenager called Harold Shipman back in 1998. Then there are all the people whose parents thought it would be charming to name them after the peace-loving Egyptian God Isis.

Yes, numbers are the way forward – just look at Thing One and Thing Two from Dr Seuss’s The Cat in the Hat – with their blue hair and smart red onesies, they’re certainly cuter than any children I’ve seen lately, including my own, Hartley Confucius Megadrive and Amabamabella Chips Porcupine.