I have seen the future, and its name is Derek. When we envisage the future of our world, through science fiction movies or books, everyone has a cool-sounding, futuristic name. Katniss Everdeen. Kerr Avon. Optimus Prime. Stuff like that.

But imagine, if you will, being a time traveller to some distant Earth society, finding yourself in a shiny city of climbing crystal spires and hovercar highways. Imagine taking the silver-clad arm of one of the denizens of this far-flung future, him turning off his brain-implanted personal computer for a second to smile at you and say: "Hello. I'm Barry."

All those names have gone out of fashion now. When I was at school the registers were stuffed with Colins, Waynes, Garys, Keiths. Julies, Joannes, Nicolas. You don't get kids called those things these days.

Today many parents have gone back to classic names - William, Joseph, Charles. Imogen, Alice, Eleanor. Those are the names of my grandparents' generation, woefully unfashionable when I was at school.

Can you imagine some mum pushing the latest hi-tech buggy, cooing over her baby Duane? Do your kids know any Sharons, or Traceys? I'd guess not.

But what if, in generations to come, those names of my youth, long-lost to the mists of deeply unfashionable times, become popular again? The signs are that they might.

For example, I keep getting told that 1970s fashions are coming back in this summer. I can hardly wait. I spent the majority of the 70s wearing brown flares, itchy cardigans and shirts with collars that, on windy days, threatened to lift you into orbit. It wasn't a good look then and I can't imagine it's going to be a good look now.

If the 1970s take hold properly - power cuts, wildcat strikes, the TV going off air after the 10 o'clock news with a rousing rendition of the National Anthem - then it stands to reason that 70s names will be on their way back.

So kids today might actually think it's cool to go back to the names of their grandparents, as we did with our children. Thus, when I become a grandad myself one day, I might be bouncing on my (polyester flared trouser-clad) knee a little Malcolm or Peter, or cooing over a Muriel or a Sheila.

A generation or two hence, there might be a Darren in Number 10 Downing Street, with Paula running the country's finances next door. Maybe some of the even older names will be in fashion - Eileen, Dorothy, Irene.

You think I jest, of course, that it'll never happen. Just you wait. I've seen evidence already, from my own daughter. A couple of years ago now she was writing a fairy story all of her own. All the elements were there - a princess, a castle, some fairy folk, and even a dashing, handsome prince. My daughter had given her characters exotic, fairy-tale names - or at least, ones that were exotic and fairy-tale to her young mind.

I can't remember the rest of them, but the name of the dashing, handsome prince has always stuck in my mind.

It was Alan.