How housing developments get named.

Driving past a new bunch of houses near David towers recently, I was once again struck by how interchangable they all are. You have a huge posterboard at the entryway showing an artists impression of a delightful pastoral idyll with a few unobtrusive houses poking out from behind stately old trees whilst happy white couples and their children (plus - perhaps - one photogenic black couple, but no asians) wander in bliss around the new homes in which they're so lucky to live. Beneath it, the caption reads something like: Kingfisher Brook - a dramatic residential opportunity for the lucky few. Never mind that this part of the world has never seen a Kingfisher and the only brook is a bubbling stream of industrial effluent, the name is the thing. In order to hide the fact that the buyer will be moving into yet another identikit commuterburg with no services or proper utilites, a bit of clever psychology is needed to make them think they're buying something in the country, rather than something in what used to be country.
What gets me is that someone out there is making good money out of naming these new developments, and with the governments' 'let's concrete over southern England' policy in full swing they'll be making even more pretty soon.

And whenever I see someone making easy money, my instant reaction is "I want in."

But how do these developments get named? What creative process takes place? Well, thanks to the miracle of bugging developers offices, the truth may now be revealed.

Developer: Well, that's another pile of boxes lobbed up. Now, marketing, work your magic.
Marketing manager: Hmmn...let me see. The artists impression shows the houses in soft focus to hide the poor architecture and cheap building materials...good...now...a name...
Developer: Aye. We need something that says 'countryside' and 'nature' and 'quiet retreat'
Marketing manager: How about Hedgerow copse?
Developer: Nah, we used that for the high-rise in Bermondsey last month.
Marketing manager: Okay...Otter's Glebe. Nestling on the willowy banks of the river Slurry amongst rolling hills, Otter's Glebe is a delightful executive-style residential opportunity of one, two and four bed family homes.
Developer: What's a Glebe?
Marketing manager: It's what we bulldozed to build the houses.
Developer: I'm not sure about mentioning otters.
Marketing manager: Are there none in the river?
Developer: There were until we dumped the site spoil into the river, aye. We've still got the Environment Agency breathing down our necks on that one.
Marketing manager: Traditional Otter habitat?
Developer Asking for trouble, that is.
Marketing manager: Okay, how about Badgers' Gallop - an exciting selection of one and two bedroom duplex and simplex apartments set in beautiful and relaxing recovered countryside?
Developer: Can badgers gallop?
Marketing manager: Who cares? Nobody you're selling to will have ever seen one.
Developer: I'm not sure about mentioning badgers anyway.
Marketing manager: What happened to them?
Developer: We think the Eastern European contractors ate them after we defaulted on paying them last month. Apparently they're an old Yugoslavian delicacy.
Marketing manager: Okay, how about Curlew Paddock - Set within a Site of Special Scientific Interest, Curlew Paddock is a charming new hamlet of faux-Edwardian cottages for discerning homeowners and families. Ticks all the boxes. Families, countryside, exclusivity. Can't lose. Paddock says 'Olde Worlde' countryside, and Curlew says...it says...
Developer: It says another ten grand on the asking price, lad. Curlews are endangered.
Marketing manager: They are?
Developer: Aye. We just built some flats on their last breeding ground in this country.
marketing manager: I love working in marketing. I really feel like I'm creating something.

And that's how it happens.