What should we name Canberra's 14 bright red trams?

And so today we ask: What does the regrettably sexist (but very catchy) 1960 smash hit pop song Itsy-Bitsy Teeny-Weeny Yellow Polka-Dot Bikini have to do with the keenly-anticipated delivery of Canberra's light rail trams?

On to that mighty issue in just a moment.

First though we note that the words "religious freedoms" are on all commentators' lips. Coincidentally, this weekend Canberrans will exercise a religious/cultural freedom now being denied to the unhappy 1.4 billion people of the People's Republic of China.

Australian conservatives, alarmed by Satan's victory in the same-sex marriage survey, are clamouring for laws to protect the so-called "religious freedoms" of those who, on principle, don't want to bake wedding cakes for gay weddings.

Meanwhile a bigger, better picture of religious freedom issues is painted by the fact that in China any performances of Handel's Messiah have been banned. With the witty heading "For Xi shall reign for ever and ever" the UK's The Economist reports that the Almighty Xi Jinping says China must "resolutely guard against overseas infiltration via religious means". This has put a stop to performances of the religious music of Handel and Bach.And so 2016's annual International Festival Chorus production in Beijing of the Messiahwas the last China will know.

The Economist sighs that "religious works are the foundation of the Western choral tradition [and] by walling itself off, China will inflict a high cost on its music lovers".

Meanwhile, this weekend in the Llewellyn Hall in the freedom-loving capital of our freedom-loving nation, the Canberra Choral Society's Messiah will give the rafters the usual Christmas-time spiritual rattling. Somehow, the knowledge that there are places where the Messiah cannot be performed makes us rejoice greatly that we are living somewhere where it can be warbled. It is a true religious freedom that dwarfs the freedom of hatchet-faced cake makers to icily refuse their frostings to those in love.

But back to light rail and to yellow polka-dot bikinis.

What names are we going to give each of the 14 bright red trams that will soon be beetling to and fro along our keenly-anticipated light rail system?

The notion of giving them names arises because of the trend triggered by Britons' attempts to christen a new government vessel "Boaty McBoatface."

So for example Lancashire's Oldham Council and Yorkshire's Doncaster Council invited possible names for their new gritters, vehicles that sprinkle salt or sand or grit on treacherous icy roads. The hundreds of suggestions included Cliff Gritchard, Gary Gritter, Grit Happens, Brad Grit, Gritney Spears, Basil Salty, Rule Grittania, Grittila the Hun, Spready Mercury, Lionel Gritchie and (love this one!) Usain Salt.

One of the Doncaster winners, now adorning a proud gritter, is Gritsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Anti-Slip Machiney. It is a play on the name of the aforementioned classic pop ditty (a hit for Brian Hyland in 1960) Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini.

Surely own government, anxious to have us adopt and love our controversial trams, should be imitating Doncaster and Oldham in this? So to give our Chief Minister a nudge this crusading columnist takes up the cause.

Our trams are to be bright red and so for a start perhaps one of them might be called Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Vermilion Rush-Hour Machiney.

Our trams' eye-catching redness suggests all sorts of red-mentioning names. And so I offer Kevin Ruddy (or better still Ruddy Kevin, reflecting the way so many of us feel about the irritating former PM). One tram might be Lady In Red (after Chris de Burgh's haunting love song of that name) and another Scarlet Whore of Babylon. One probably should be called Will Scarlet, so very appropriate to rainbow-friendly Canberra because the flamboyantly dressed Will was of course the openly gay member of Robin Hood's band of Merrie Men.

Then, calling a tram the Lone Ranga would wittily honour the name of a famous TV hero of the Wild West and echo the famous Aussie slang word for a red-haired person.

Calling a tram the Red Herring could humour the anti-tram troglodytes by hinting at the ways in which the ACT government has allegedly misled us about light rail's breathtaking costs.

Calling one of the trams Cardinal Pell-Mell would honour the name of a famous and respected Australian and refer to the tram's galloping commuting speed.

And a tram being named King Commute would play with King Canute, famous for his unsuccessful defiance of the incoming tides (so eerily reminiscent of the anti-light rail troglodytes' unsuccessful attempts to turn back the 21st-century tide of progress).

A tram called Trolley Gobble Bliss Bomb would blend the notion of the trolley bus with the name of Australia's best-loved snack food.

Calling a tram Malcolm Trundle would capture not only what the pig-ignorant White House imagines our PM's name to be but also the tram's gentle locomotion.

Blushing a little (for I admit these names are a teensy bit contrived) I also suggest J.K. Rolling Stock, Johnny Depot, Taylor Swift Run Into Town and A Trolley Swagman.

Over to you, now, readers. Get name-inventing, thou Itsy-Bitsy Smart and Hip Ever-So-Clever Readership.