to prison…’

   In a classroom, where there may be several children who bear the same first name, use of the full name may be necessary: ‘What do they show us, children? Could you tell us, Philip Arnold?’ says a teacher in Free Fall, by William Golding.

   Even in social encounters, either face to face or on the telephone, the full name may be said to confirm identification, especially if the people concerned have not met for a long time. Stop at Nothing, by John Welcome has: ‘“Toni!” I exclaimed. “Toni Velletti!”’ In No Highway, by Nevil Shute, there is: ‘“Monica Teasdale?” “That’s right.”’ A Season In Love, by Peter Draper, has the narrator begin a telephone conversation by saying ‘My name’s Wilson.’ ‘Sam Wilson?’ says the voice at the other end of the line. This is on the borderline of vocative usage, but is a common enough happening. A special case of confirming identity is instanced by R.F.Delderfield, in Theirs was the Kingdom: ‘A girl like you could hook just about anyone, anyone at all ‘I don’t want anyone. I want you, Jamie Higson.’

   A more common situation where the full form of a name is used is during a radio broadcast, where the presenter of a chat-show wishes to remind the audience of the studio guest’s identity. Apart from its use to identify formally, or to confirm an identification, a person’s full name may be used with mock formality or severity, or with genuine anger or annoyance, especially when administering a reproof. ‘I heard what you said, Gladys Butler. I have never heard anything so impertinent,’ says a headmistress, in The Liberty Man, by Gillian Freeman. You’re horrid. I won’t have anything more to do with you, Joe Lampton,’ says a girl in Room at the Top, by John Braine. ‘You take your hands off me, Mark Fearon,’ says another girl, in Within and Without, by John Harvey. The speaker in The Taste of Too Much, by Clifford Hanley, who shouts: You shut your mouth, Ria Dougan!’ is genuinely very angry with the girl he is addressing. So, perhaps, is the mother in Edna Ferber’s Showboat, who says to her daughter: ‘Magnolia Hawks, get into your bed this very minute!’ It may have no significance, but the literary evidence suggests that women are more likely to use the first name + last name formula when reproving than men are.

   Finally, though it has little to do with the above, The Limits of Love, by Frederic Raphael has an old joke that bears repetition, where an ad hoc last name is created: ‘You really know what you’re doing. My name’s Susan, by the way.’ ‘Hello, Susan by-the-way. My name’s Ben-in-case-you-don’t-knowSimons.’