The legend of the Monkey Hangers and other reasons why the English have so many funnier names than we do

Grab a cup of cocoa, take the laptop to the armchair, and settle in for a nice Sunday afternoon story.

Once upon a time, the people of Hartlepool lived the normal lives of Northern Englanders. They caught fish, ate meat pies, and drank the good drink of fermented barley. Then one day, England and France had a bit of a falling out, having something to do with a man named Napoleon.

As Hartlepool is a coastal city, the people knew the sneaky French could be planning an attack on their very seashore, and they kept a wary watch over the coastline. Suspecting that their little town had a very important role to play in the Napoleonic War period of English history, they patrolled the beaches for any sign of action, and soon their vigilance was rewarded with the sight of a ship not far off the coast. The townsfolk didn't have long to worry what to do next, though, as a storm battered and eventually sunk the unlucky vessel. The pitchforks and fish knives would have to stay where they were until next time.

The wreckage proved the ship was indeed French, but the only survivor to make it to shore was a monkey, who, it seemed, had the unfortunate task of entertaining captain and crew, as his soggy body was wearing a military uniform. The simple fishing folk of Hartlepool had most likely never seen a monkey and assumed he must be a spy. Obviously. To their dismay, all attempts at interrogation were met with monkey babble, which, as anyone not knowing the language would do, they understood to be French, a further sign of the wee spy's guilt. With no other alternatives, the townsfolk held a trial, convicted the monkey, sentenced him to death, and hung him on the beach. And to this day, the people of Hartlepool are called Monkey Hangers.

Now, if you happen to meet a Hartlepudlian, I wouldn't recommend using the nickname for safety reasons. Some like it; some don't. And they're a sturdy lot.

(For the sake of honesty, this blog entry argues convincingly that the story just might be made up, but I prefer to believe the unbelievable.)