With Merl now scheduled to visit the Famed Gorilla of Amsterdam, this is perhaps an apt time to explain exactly why they call me "Johnny" in Amsterdam. As you might expect, it's not a very good reason.

It goes back to 2000 and a large organizational meeting I was organizing at the Amstelveen headquarters of the large multi-national I was then working for. In the run-up to that meeting, my London-based colleague Robin Oakley was on the phone with Miranda Bongers, a staffer at HQ. I love Miranda -- for her name alone. Anyway, she didn't particularly care for my name, for throughout her correspondence with Robin she kept refering to messages from someone named "Sean." Oakley had no idea who that was until he realized she meant me.

"We also call him John," Oakley helpfully pointed out. She replied to that e-mail with this intriguing suggestion:

"Why not Johnny (I like that name better, it is a real Amsterdam name!)"

When we finally did hold that meeting, pre-printed name badges were spread out on a table near the door. Mine? Of course it said: "Johnny Mastandrea." I wore it throughout the two-day meeting and even while I presented.

And that, my friends, is why in Amsterdam they call me "Johnny."

I didn't say the story would be interesting...