Dazzy Gazzy!?
I sort of come from the Isle of Man (i.e.: I lived there for most of my childhood). I've not been back for years.
It's a small place, so people often ask "Oh, I know someone from the IoM - do you know X?" like Americans asking we Brits if we know the Queen. Yes, the Island may be a tad inbred, but not everyone knows each other. There are a few dozen thousand people there, you know.
Twits.

Except, a mate of mine started a new job, and was amused to find that one of her fellow employees was from the hilarious backwater of web-footed no-tailed motorbiking and weirdness, the Isle of Man.
"Oh, I know someone from the Isle of Man!" says she.
"Yeah, everyone says that," says fellow employee. "Okay - who is it?"
"No Cake For the Impuritay."
"Shit! Never?" says Daz, my mate.

So I go to visit him. Strange, meeting someone you've not seen for all that time. We were kids when we last met, not in our mid-twenties, all growed up and jobbing professionals. Wasn't hard to recognise him: he looked exactly the same, except with a gaotee beard.

I was just going to say so, but Daz interrupts:
"Fucking hell, you look exactly the same, except with a goatee beard!"
( no cake for the impuritay Patrick Stewart hasn't aged since, Fri 9 Feb 2007, 11:23, Reply)