We’re at the table tennis club – our usual international mix of players from all around the world – and we’re chatting. Carolina, from Spain, comes in, greets everyone and says “Hi Mohammed” to our friend from Egypt. Except his name is Ayman. It’s a source of great amusement to all of us, including Ayman, because she is among us the most open-minded, unprejudiced one, the one least likely to follow a stereotype. Someone points out her mistake, and she is mortified:” Oh no, I’ve been calling him Mohammed all along – for months!”

I love Caro dearly, but the situation was so delicious that I just had to pile on a little. I pointed out that calling Ayman “Mohammed” was like someone calling her husband Freddy “Jose”. Ayman turns to me and says: “Actually, my middle name is Mohammed”, and from behind me I hear Freddy: “Uhm, actually my middle name is Jose.”