I've always thought of the sobriquet "Lord Whimsy" as an office more than a name. Anyone who walks in my ankle boots will soon realize that "lord" implies duty more than elevation, since there are many demands that come with it. One should be able to list it as an occupation on one's tax form; after all, being a Whimsy is something one must live up to, just as much as others must live up to being a doctor, policemen, or chef.
Think that was a preposterous analogy? Let me tell you something: when it comes to dedication, those "professionals" are rank amateurs. Amateurs! While those lazy architects and layabout professors are sleeping, I'm polishing my shoes well into the wee hours, because if I walk out of my house with smudged uppers, the spell is broken, and I must hand in my wand. Being a whimlord means never saying "I'm at the end of my laundry cycle".
Of course, I'm not the first whimlord: Lord Buckley and the fictional Sayers character Lord Peter Wimsey are predecessors. Seeing other whimlords here and there means that any claims of uniqueness are stifled in the cradle: I'm merely a species within the genus Whimsyii. Of course, the more of us, the merrier. Why, the permutations are endless: Lord Breaulove Swells Whimsy, Lord Avery Puckish Whimsay, Lord Durty Button-Whimsee, Sir Cottonpork Whimsley, Lady Whoopsie du Whimseé, etc. A league of gentle, ridiculous, curious dilettantes. Could be quite a club, no? It's like being a Sith Lord with better dialogue, or a timelord with a better haircut.
So: if you were to be a whimlord, what would be your handle, and what would you look like?