As he says farewell to the track and hits the road, Sir Mohamed Muktar Jama Farah now wants to be called by his full first name instead of Mo. It’s his name. It’s his career. He can call himself what he wants. Kings, popes, rockstars and poets take on new names. He is all of that, and a bit mo’.

Why did he shorten it in the first place? To make life easier for the British, I assume. Maybe it was a family nickname, or maybe it came in handy for branding later, but before he became a brand he was Mohamed – and British people have a slight problem with a full-on Mohamed. Not just with the historical association, but they find it hard to spell (yes, there are one or two variations, but the basics aren’t difficult). Like most expats in the UK, I spent a significant part of my life telling people on the phone, “Yes it’s M O H, no not an S … Yes it’s M O H … ”

And this after a silly story appearing every couple of years claiming that Mohamed is becoming the most common name in the UK. Really? Why can’t you spell it then? I have never asked you how you spell David.

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I know the joys of being abbreviated to Mo. I was occasionally called Mo by my London friends. It felt great. Suddenly I wasn’t a mid-level BBC hack but some DJ on his way to do a gig at Notting Hill Arts Club. Mo is a rude boy, a gangster, someone who backslaps a bouncer and walks in. Mohamed stands in the queue and wonders whether the price of a pint is worth it, or when the next night bus home will come along. But I was no Mo. I’m not really even a Mohamed. It’s part of my name but not my name, you see.

Have you ever noticed how they design the forms that you have to fill out throughout your life? It’s atrocious. It’s not really slavery or starving a few million Bengalis to death but still atrocious. Your name is divided into given and family name. And yes, if you are really lucky, a middle name. Now what if one doesn’t have a family name? What if one’s family was not presumptuous enough to think that such a thing mattered? What if they thought, “let’s give every sibling a different name, and see if they’ll get along”. So my name is Hanif. Then why Mohammed? It’s just thrown in for some good vibes, here and in the afterlife.

So maybe we are part of a global tribe of Mohameds whose parents added it on in the hope that we’d inherit some characteristics of our great prophet. Mostly, it doesn’t work. Some try a more worldly route. I know a Muslim father who named his son Bertrand Russell. That didn’t turn out very well either. In some parts of India, Muslims name their sons Stalin. Parenting is always hope waging a losing battle against experience.

I am sure it’ll all work out fine in the afterlife, but there really are no advantages in being called Mohamed in this one. It used to be a problem before airports all over the world adopted the tighter security model, where they start by questioning your long-dead grandmother’s hobbies. Before 9/11 I waited at a European immigration desk as the official tried to match me with a namesake on his computer. That could take a lifetime, I suggested: half the world is called Mohamed. These days it’s not simply the name that matters. If you are a Muslim or come from one of those evil Muslim countries, you’ll get the Tel Aviv treatment. You could be called David, but if you are Muslim you are pretty much the designated enemy in any airport in the world. In fact, if you are David and happen to be Muslim, you will have a much worse time than if you were called Mohammed.

I know the joys of being abbreviated to Mo. I was occasionally called Mo by my London friends. It felt great

One advantage to Mo is obvious: even the British can pronounce it. When I worked at the BBC World Service, there used to be a small dedicated pronunciation unit, where they tried to correct our pronunciation of the names of eastern European war criminals. Some of us would grumble that John Simpson, who had a god-like job title, could never pronounce Kabul properly. Some corporation sage put an end to that debate by saying it didn’t matter how close he got to the true pronunciation of Kabul, it would still end up getting the hell bombed out of it.

We named our second son Changez, a variation on Genghis. One of our family members was livid. How can you give him such a name? He killed so many people! What do you suggest, I asked. Why don’t you call him Mohamed, I was told.

Most famous people have had to kill some people, I pleaded, and many others cheer them on. And I can’t possibly name my son after some op-ed writer. Maybe, by reclaiming his full name, Sir Mohamed is saying to British people: I was just about the best athlete in the history of this country – have I pleased you enough? Are you satisfied? Now can you start calling me by my proper name?

As a Muslim, when you use the prophet’s name, you have to say afterwards “peace be upon him”. Sir Mohamed: may peace, speed, endurance and even more coolness be upon you with your “new” name.

• Mohammed Hanif is a journalist and author