I’m no stranger to ego-surfing, if I may deploy that crusty neologism-that-wasn’t — a word from those halcyon days in which the Everyperson lived out their brief, faddish first romance with search engines. People did it, Wired talked about it: sometimes you just have to Google yourself to see how you stand, webospherically.

I bring this up not to introduce some new wrinkle in the ongoing saga of Josh Millard vs. The Search Engines, but rather to express a certain weird pleasure in having discovered something Millardological despite not making any effort to find myself.

Presenting Rosie Millard Central.

Who is Rosie Millard? I had no idea, until ten minutes ago. The site covers, as you might expect, a great deal on the subject, but Rosie is, briefly, a (former?) BBC television correspondent. And somebody is so bloody fond of her that they set up a web-site on geocities. Bravo for Rosie, and all that. I personally take some weird pleasure in seeing the name Millard plastered all over a site, regardless of whether or not it has anything to do with me; and, back to the original point, I didn’t go looking for a Millard, and in fact have no idea how I even got there, now. Oh how I love you, my wonderful random The Web.

I haven’t been this homonymically* tickled since I found about good old Number Thirteen.

* Though, in the case of Pres. Fillmore, the pronunciation “MILL-erd” clashes with my surname’s rendering: “Mih-LARD”. So I suppose the tickling in that case would be more correctly classified as merely homographical. Oh well.