Imagine if people burst out laughing every time you told them your name. That's the situation many people face every day - names such as Bart Simpson, Eamonn Casey or William Clinton may have sounded entirely innocuous when parents christened their babies 50 years ago, but when their namesakes hit the limelight, their names took on a life of their own.

"You're telling us," might be the refrain from Charlie and Maureen Haughey from Tubbercurry, Co Sligo. Does it bother them to share names with such a famous couple? "Not at all," says Charlie. "You get a bit of craic out of it and it's better than talking about the weather." He also gets the regular jokers who ask about brown envelopes before guffawing at their remarkable wit.

Maureen Haughey doesn't mind the jokes, but it irritates her when people are introducing her husband and say he isn't the real Charlie Haughey. "I always say he's very real to me," she says. Like his namesake, Charlie is also retired, having worked in Teagasc, but he is enjoying his retirement in relative calm and obscurity - unlike Charlie in Kinsealy.

Charlie and Maureen have fielded calls for the former Taoiseach over the years. "We had one woman who used to ring regularly to give out about whatever was going on in the Department of Justice, when he was Justice Minister. She used to be a bit under the weather and she didn't seem to get the message," Charlie recalls.

Maureen remembers being at a wedding in Sutton and noticing the long delay before they could sit down to eat. "The bride's mother went to ask about the delay and was told `we were waiting for the arrival of Charlie and Maureen Haughey'." Charlie feels that much of his namesake's good work has been forgotten. "I like him. I think he was a good politician and did a lot of good things that many people forget about."

Pamela Andison may not have exactly the same surname as the famous buxom blonde, but niceties of spelling are lost on the young bloods who hear her name. "You get the same jokes all the time," she says. "People ask you if you are wearing your red swimsuit. Young blokes are the worst." On the plus side, Pamela says it breaks the ice - and often ensures that her phone-calls are returned. As a development worker in Sligo with CLASP - the Community of Lough Arrow Social Project - Pamela spends much of her time on the phone, and this is where she gets the most reaction. "I don't mind, but when you get it a few times a day, it can get a bit tedious. They think they are the first people to say these things and you can't really tell them you've heard it a hundred times before or they'll think you have no sense of humour."

Geraldine Dolan, from Dromahair, Co Leitrim has the experience of living with not one, but two Joe Dolans. Her husband Joe is a pig farmer and former councillor, while her son Joe is also a farmer. But Joe junior has another string to his bow: he plays with a local band. Joe senior recalls one Cavan man who used to greet him on the phone with a rendition of "It's you, it's you, it's you. . ." He is well used to people asking him for a song - and actually owns a Joe Dolan tape. "But he wouldn't be my favourite. I think he's a good entertainer but I'd prefer Finbarr Wright or a ceili band like Shaskeen."