My ex-wife's father (my ex-father-in-law?) taught a girl in school who's first name was Lasagne
A wonderful Roundworld placename, which could easily be a Discworld location, is Head-Smashed-in-Buffalo-Jump, in Alberta, Canada, which I visited a few years back.
A few hundred years ago, before the introduction of the horse to North America, the native peoples (the Indians) would hunt buffalo on foot. In one region, near the foothills of the Rockies in Canada, in an area called the Porcupine Hills, where the geography is so flat you can actually see the curvature of the Earth, Indians would creep up on vast herds on buffalo in the night. Disguised in buffalo hides, they would get as close as possible to the edges of the herd. At dawn, they would jump up and start yelling and whooping, causing the herd to stampede. The stampede would be directed towards a small cliff, only around 15ft high, by channeling it down a carefully prepared series of shrubs and bushes, which narrowed as it got closer to the edge. By the time the lead buffaloes realised what was in front of them, they had the weight of thousands, and in some cases, tens of thousands, of other stampeding buffalo at their backs, and hundreds would fall over the edge, where the waiting braves would slaughter them and take all they needed.
According to legend, one young brave, 15 summers old, decided that it would be very brave of him to watch from underneath as the buffalo fell. There is a small outcrop of rock in the cliff, and he thought he would be safe standing under there. He was wrong. As the hundreds of buffalo fell, and gathered in a huge pile, they fell back into the cliff side. Several hundred tons of dead and dying buffalo fell against the young brave, crushing him to death and crushing his skull, hence - Head-smashed-in-buffalo-jump. A very sad, but utterly fascinating reason for naming an otherwise fairly innocuous piece of geography.