If its not been given the big "O" treatment - Thommo, Deano, Baino, Robbo, Daddyo; it's the "Ee" ending - Ready, Barnsey, Millsy; or the US-influenced "Ster" finale - Rodster, Jillarooster or Kenster.
More creative nicknames have been introduced - 'Bluey' for red-haired blokes or the more modern 'Fanta pants'; 'Sticks' for a tall guy I used to pick apricots with; 'Mudguts' for another picker who was wider than he was tall and loved to sleep under his ute at lunchtimes; and 'Donger' for a young guy who..... well, I wasn't interested enough to find out.
Naturally, it sent my own mind a-musin' on some of the names I've been called over time. No, I don't mean those that have been yelled out at me from passing P-plated cars, fellow drivers or personal enemies; but those given to me in the normal course of life.
During one confusing week whilst employed as a 'Graduate Trainee' at the ANZ bank, I received three bunches of flowers delivered at work plus a visit from an interested suitor from the university across the road. This was the only time of my life that it seemed to pour men - normally they were few and far on the horizon. Despite this - and settling, eventually, for none of them - I was called 'Stud' for the remainder of my time at the bank. I still blush just writing about it.
Finally, when I got married to my super special squeeze Love Chunks, my surname changed to 'Lockett', so I went from being called 'Chopper' to 'Plugger'. Just as feminine and as flattering. *sigh*