As a life-long fan of the pint-sized pop princess, Delia was determined her first-born daughter would be named in her honour. Little Kylie Jones was duly monikered.
Two days in to motherhood (and having bored their family and friends senseless with entreaties to marvel at their daughter's tiny eyes/nose/ears/fingers/hiccups) a letter arrived. It had an ominous air of officialdom to it.
The name Kylie is trademarked! Davy Jones exclaimed. “We can’t use it!”
Delia Smith smarted: “Surely not? Surely you can't do that, can you..?”
Two days in to motherhood (and having bored their family and friends senseless with entreaties to marvel at their daughter's tiny eyes/nose/ears/fingers/hiccups) a letter arrived. It had an ominous air of officialdom to it.
The name Kylie is trademarked! Davy Jones exclaimed. “We can’t use it!”
Delia Smith smarted: “Surely not? Surely you can't do that, can you..?”
