Back in the late seventies, in a post chemical dawn, I was walking through woods with the similarly afflicted. One was relating a Kurt Vonnegut story, wherein a character renames himself 'Marx Marvellous', with the justification that those two words are repulsive to Americans. My friend then asked what names we would choose for ourselves, and without forethought I said 'enile snirkette'. I've used it ever since, though I've dabbled with 'Paul Swift' and 'J Clare' for tax reasons.

en'and my real name is...'ile

PS: My youngest son, when he was about 3, would say 'when I was Rosa' and go on to tell of working as an 'assistant', riding pillion on his/her boyfriend's scooter and the day the iron set fire to the curtains in the kitchen. He later forgot all about it, but a couple of years later spontaneously named one of the rabbits 'Bosa'. Makes you wonder?