Eating a very bad brunch at a very indifferent eatery in Shatin City One the other Sunday, my mood was scarcely improved by the arrival of a Hong Kong couple with their 6- or 7-year old boy with greased hair, who switched to speaking English as soon as they heard us speaking that language on the next-door table.
Things improved unexpectedly after a minute or so of being forced to listen to their vapid conversation - which appeared to be aimed in our direction - when the boy committed some infraction and was upbraided by his mother thus: "Aloysius, stop that!"
For, after that I heard no more of their twittish chunterings, as I was too busy trying to think which person of that name the mite might have been named after. First choice was the Sesame Street character, Aloysius Snuffleupagus, to whom the mother bore a passing resemblance. Then there was always Dr Aloysius Alzheimer, the Bavarian psychiatrist whose reward for shrinking all those heads in Munich was to have presenile dementia forever associated with his name.
Or could perchance the parents be fans of one Anthony Aloysius Hancock, the most famous resident of 23 Railway Cuttings, East Cheam - for half an hour a week at any rate? But they looked to be more children of the 80s than the 60s, so my best guess is that they have the DVD boxed set of the BBC adaptation of Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited. (As they were Hong Kongers, we can rule out the possibility that they might have actually read the book,)
For one of the stars of that show, with arguably more backbone and chin than his "master" Lord Sebastian Flyte, was a teddy-bear called Aloysius, which Evelyn Waugh is said to have named after his Oxford chum John Betjeman's furry friend.