Often, I write for people who are just starting up a business. They need the works: web copy, sales letters, press releases, brochures. But before any of that, they have to make one crucial decision.What should they call the business?

Next to naming a business, naming a baby looks like … well, child’s play, frankly. Nobody really wonders what the market will think of Mark, John or Peter, Kelly, Sarah or Jessica. (The same may not quite be true of Brooklyn, Apple or Peaches.) A baby’s name is just a name. It doesn’t have to convey a USP or a marketing message.

But a business? Well, that’s a whole different business.

People agonise. They make up their mind. They change their mind. They change it back.

I know. I’ve been there. But in the end, you simply have to choose a name and go with it.

Really? Yes, really. After all, let’s look at some of the names we all know and love (or hate). Let’s pretend we’ve never heard them before. And now, let’s see what we make of them.

Some names instantly suggest what they do – easyJet, for example. But what about Ryanair? It’s named after the Ryan family, who founded the airline. If I were starting an airline, I’d think long and hard before calling it Walshair. But that’s just what they did, and today, it’s synonymous with low-cost air travel.

Let’s look at Amazon. Yes, it’s A to Z (look at the arrow on their logo, which doubles up as a smile). But why a South American rainforest? Does that suggest books? Surely it strays dangerously close to an alarming truth about books – that you need to cut down forests in order to make them?

How about Virgin? Say the word and you think of megastores, planes, record labels and Richard Branson. Not a virgo intacta or the mother of God. It’s hard now, with the name embedded in our psyche for over 20 years, to imagine how radical it must have been when it first appeared.

Some names indirectly refer to what they do: Surf and Tide wash away those nasty stains. Bold is brave and fearless in the face of dirt. But Daz? Omo?

Often, the more you look, the less sense a name makes. For every obvious one (Innocent Drinks, North Face, Laptops Direct) there’s one that means nothing (Skype, Asda, B&Q).

Some names are too clever – The Body Shop, for example, is a pun that virtually nobody in the UK gets. Why? Because this side of the pond, when your car is damaged you take it to a panel beater, not a body shop.

But in the end, none of it matters. Obvious names fail (Skytrain, On Digital) and not-so-obvious names are runaway successes (Starbucks, iPod).

The moral of the story is simple: it’s not the name – it’s what you do with it.