Vanessa Feltz
I was once told I looked identical to Vanessa Feltz.


I'm a boy.
(Good Looking Deity Grew a magnificent beard on, Tue 5 Jun 2007, 9:55, Reply)

Every time I get a nice conservative haircut...
I get told I look like that schmarmy fat-necked cunt Brendan Fraser. My only consolation is that his career is going nowhere.

And it's usually just the Chinese who giggle and say it because they are fucking rude and I won't be here forever.

And on the fucking rude thing they have also occasionally mistaken me for a fat bastard. Not really mistaken identity except that I have been mistaken for some generically fat turd who thinks its OK for coworkers to have a few drinks until their faces go bright red then tolerate them having a laugh about my proper-man-esque stomach.
(But I Poop From There! has friends whose kids just got hamsters., Tue 5 Jun 2007, 9:49, Reply)

Rimmer
My friends at college (about 14 years ago) used to caller me Rimmer - as in Arnold Rimmer because I "looked like him"

I'm black. I'm not the tallest. I would have been 17.

Likeness - Definetly not.....
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Tue 5 Jun 2007, 9:47, Reply)

when I worked in a factory
I used to pop to the supermarket nearby to get my dinner.
One day I'm walking down an aisle and someone is shouting excuse me, excuse me, EXCUSE ME.
Eventually I spin round to see some Margret Thatcher type pensioner looking in my direction.
She looks at me and says "How rude I've been calling you all the way up this aisle."
I tell her I dont work here and shes convinced I do because Im wearing an overall!!
"Where is the strawberry jam" she demands
I still dont know where it came from but I replied "probably next to the rasberry" and walked off.
I can imagine her trying to complain about the non existent rude worker.
(never-right -getting it wrong since '78, Tue 5 Jun 2007, 8:44, Reply)

My family has a habit of calling each other by the wrong name
Such as my Nan who has 6 kids - "Bil-Bar-Gav-Sue-Ken-WARREN!"

My favourite story though, is myself. Always being picked on by my brothers, I'm inevidibly yelling at either of them. This has become fairly common, so they hardly notice. On one occasion, however, I saw red. I had tripped over one of their toys and screamed the house down for five minutes - using MY OWN NAME throughout the whole rant. I didn't even notice until I calmed down a little and wondered why my whole family were rolling around on the floor, purple with laughter...
(EasilyRecognisable I’m back baby, Tue 5 Jun 2007, 8:05, Reply)

ben affleck
had an old lady at a church i used to go to call me ben affleck everytime she saw me.

i'm not sure if she thought i was him or just thought herself clever, but i've gotten the same from other people so who knows
(khoethmora Curiouser and curiouser..., Tue 5 Jun 2007, 6:39, Reply)

Viscount Linley
I once got a fairly detailed grope off a chick in Florida because I was the spitting image of Viscount Linley. He was apparently something like 13th in line to the throne and she knew this and recognized me as such. My mates/loyal subjects immediately cottoned on and elevated my royal status to match.

"one has such wonderful memories of that evening"
( gp_guineapig, Tue 5 Jun 2007, 5:50, Reply)

Not so much confused
As people say it to me to take the piss.

I 'look like' Rodney Trotter aka Nicholas Lyndhurst.

The first time someone mentioned it I had a good giggle because I do, sort of. Now it gets boring then some genius starts to call me Dave like Trigger I want to start throwing things about.

The best was when I was on holiday in Majorca and the black dudes try to sell you watches and all that tack shouted down the street 'Oi Rodders!'

I Also look like Doug (Funnie) the cartoon character because I have a big nose so now my nickname is Doug and has been since primary school. Teachers used to call out Doug for register and good friends still don't know my actual name is Mark. Grrr.
(PieEater, Tue 5 Jun 2007, 2:00, Reply)

I'm the government
I was in town last night, out on the razz with a couple friends, wearing my natty black suit with a rather natty red tie. The night was wearing on and the drink was drunk at various pubs and clubs across the town. We decided to continue the party at a pub further on, about a good ten minutes stomping and stumbling down the rain-soaked grey of Union Street in Aberdeen.

Some bleached blonde guy walks past me, spins round on his feet (rather groggily) and shouts at me to come over to him. I do. This, I later learned, was what is known as a Bad Idea.
"Oi, what are you going to do about the Polish" He cried in a somewhat slurred and needlessly aggressive manner. Completely non-plussed by this I said "I dunno". So he asked me again and I replied the same. this continued several times before he attempted to lamp me in the face.

Fortunately, I had chosen the exact moment he tried to whack me as the time to walk away from him. Too inebriated to chase me he hollered to me:
"Oh, run away then, just because you're in the government, In your funcy suit, thinking your running the fucking country the way you want."
I told shouted to him that I wasn't in the government but he didn't believe me. "Shut the fuck up and stop stealing all our jobs and givvin them to the fucking Polish. Stop taking our houses and giving them to the Polish. Y'see you, you're dead fucking meat. What are we going to do when you've stolen all our jobs?"

So, there you go, I'm a government worker stealing Jobs from what I can only presume to be good, hardworking xenophobes and giving them to all the Polish simply by dint of the fact that I wore a suit.
(John_Anon_Prince I have no heart and soul, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 23:27, Reply)

Arsonade reminds me
Not me, a friend.
When Hanson had their big hit "Mmmbop", he and some (male) colleauges were discussing it and the bands appearance on TOTP or somesuch. One says "y'know the blonde ones really cute, I'd do her"...

...cue sound of jaws hitting floor.
(kitescreech still here, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 22:59, Reply)

my flatmate and i
just got back from dinner to see the french doors on her bedroom balcony were open. shit, shit, burglar!

except that the flat is way up on the third floor of a victorian mansion block and nobody could have climbed up there. right?

still, we opened the front door very carefully and peered round. nothing there. looked in her room. nothing there. crept into the kitchen, hand in hand. nothing there.

sneaked quietly into the lounge, not wanting to alert the burglar to our presence and maybe get twatted over the skull with our own hammer (from my pink toolkit). OH MY GOD, there was, there was a massive lump of a huge burglar hiding behind the sofa. we both froze. then she screamed and i swore. she may have shat herself. i'm not sure.

then we both realised it was just the spare duvet left over from the weekend thrown over the desk........... not a burglar or a rapist or even a tramp.

what a pair of twats.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 22:33, Reply)

Shop assistant face
Not been recognised by anyone in particular but I have lost count the number of times when out shopping people approach me and ask where things are in a shop. The last time this happened was yesterday when I was asked if I had any compost. I told the women I did not work there but she appeared to not want to believe me. For crying out loud I'm standing there talking to my two kids wearing a geeky computer t-shirt. What is it about me. It really bugs me so stop it!
(grahamm wish I could think of a clever sig, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 22:20, Reply)

Moustaches
My dad has a moustache. Fair enough, I say, he's getting on a bit now and perfectly entitled to have a moustache.

However, many of my friends haven't cottoned on to the fact that just because he has a moustache, he doesn't look like every single other man out there with lip fur. Fat men, thin men, tall men, short men, dark men, light men, men with big bushy monstrosities, men with a trim line of facial topiary, men knocking on death's door, men barely out of nappies (well, unusually hirsute men barely out of nappies, anyway), it makes no difference, when we're out and about, it's almost inevitable that the sight of a moutachioed man will illicit cackles of 'Hey, Ben, look, it's you Dad!' Followed by gleeful high-fiving at their own wit.
(WarneMarsh My priority for frivolity begets quality jollity, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 21:47, Reply)

Elijah Wood...
...all the fucking time...I can't actually walk to the shops without some fucker going "FROOODOOO".

I once went to my local shopping centre (bluewater)to go to the cinema to see "GREEN STREET" got to the centre walked a bit with then girlfriend and proceeded to say quite loudly in yankee accent "I love the peacefull atmosphere you guys got going here no one has asked for my autograph today" to which about 7 girls ran at me with reciepts for me to sign...then there were more and more and no one actually told them I wasn't him...and I got in the cinema for free! Great day and anyone who is going to complain about looking like someone should use it to their advantage!

Although occasionally it doesnt work. Sometimes people say OMG!!!11!!! Dyoo know who you look like?

Me: Erm...maybe...Frodo

Them: No I was gonna say: (insert any of the following)

Justin Timberlake, Harry Potter, Some guy from dawsons creek, Robbie Williams, Bam Margera and the weirdest one, Bart Simpson (these have all come up at least twice)

But usually Frodo.

no apologies for Length but some for Girth (surgery is soon)
( Supersam11 Can I go on the slides please?, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 21:35, Reply)

Thur man's having a laugh, right?
When Pulp Fiction was out, I was the proud owner of a jet-black Uma Thurman bob. 'Wow! You look just like Uma Thurman!' New York's trendiest and finest would coo at me. Fast forward six months to Leamington Spa, where it's grown out a bit and gone a bit lighter. I sit in a bar. The man next to me says: 'You look just like that famous person off the telly.'
'Uma Thurman?' I ask.
'No, no. Oh - what's her name... Victoria Wood.'
(whatswiththemonkey, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 21:04, Reply)

back when my hair was shorter
and my beard was non-existent
I was told constantly that I looked like one of the singers from Hanson (that shitty band that apparently forgot the words to their one hit song)
luckily its longer now and the beard is keeping them away, but it was pretty frightening.
now I just look like I'm a stoner.
I can live with that.
just so long as I never have to sing "Mmm Bop" for anyone ever again, ever.

Length? ah, its about 2 feet now.
( Arsonade is saving up for a new box of hummus, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 20:57, Reply)

Milky Bars are on me
Don MacLean (as in "Crackerjack" not "American Pie") once shouted "Oi, shut it Milky Bar Kid" at me when I was heckling him during a panto. Though I'm not sure this counts as a bona fide mistaken identity, more a half-hearted put down to a mouthy 10 year old.
( shavedchimp something something oranges something, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 20:02, Reply)

WARING: Fluff ahead
Not about me, as i apparently look like no one, but about a friend of mine. She looks like Daniel Radcliffe AKA Harry Potter, right down to the haircut, glasses et al. I've been known to tease her about this.

Anyway one sunny day browsing the books in W.H.Smith she overheard a very young boy whisper to his slightly older sister

"Look! Its Hary Potter."

To which his sister sweetly replyed "No! Its not really Harry Potter, his name is Daniel Radcliffe. HELLO DANIEL!"

All my friend could do was say 'Hi', wave and run away as fast as she could before they asked her for an autograph.
(peech, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 19:49, Reply)

hello
in my long haired phase, i used to work on the checkouts at my local superdupermarket. roughly half the time, when approached by a mum with her kid in tow, clutching a bag of sugary goodies, she would instruct her child to "give your sweets to the lady" (i'm a guy). I really didn't mind the first few times and the mum'swould often be more embarrassed than me. but when i grew a beard i thought it might stop...
(ewe, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 18:12, Reply)

what an ass
Someone once mistook my (_!_) for my ({})
Or so he said.


[Insert penis joke here; after all, that's what he did.]
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 17:57, Reply)

My secret evil twin
Back when I lived in sunny Islington I used to get stopped several times a year by people who accused me of being 'Paul'. Complete strangers would wander up to me, say "Hiya, how you doing? Oh, you're not Paul". No, I am bloody not.

I could just about cope with the knowledge that, in my small corner of London, I was hardly unique. What made it worse was the Police.

I have no idea what Paul would get up to in his spare time, or whether or not he was a career criminal. But adding to this Kafta-esque experience were several incidents where I was stopped by the rozzers and had to produce ID proving that, contrary to what they thought, I am in fact a Mark, not Paul.

No apologies for lack of humour etc, but if I ever meet this Paul, I'm going to tattoo the criminal bastard's face so finally his ass-hat mates and the local bobbies have a way to tell us apart.
( Bohica Anne Frank's Bukkaki Tentacle Storm, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 16:54, Reply)

Arse
I am (apparently) the spitting image of a notorius local car thief. I only realised this after being pulled for like the 30th time, and once identity confirmed, being waved on my jolly way with nary a producer...

Mentioned this to my sister who happens to be a local legal secretary, and she says "Oh, thats coz you look like Bumface McFuckwank", who apparently steals upwards of ten motors a week.

Arse
(CantSleepClownsWillGetMe Likes: Turtles, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 16:54, Reply)

Not me but
An acquaintance of mine got his identity nicked by what can only be described as an international terrorist – no really.
He didn’t find out until, while staying in a Hotel in Bosnia 10 screaming, masked, armed ‘special police’ burst into his room at 4am. Five years later and he’s still not keen on traveling abroad.

Still, not as bad as somebody saying you look a little like a B-list celeb.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Mon 4 Jun 2007, 16:45, Reply)

therocker
I have a similar experience:

my mother would frequently confuse me with my brothers. Fair enough you think. we all look similar, and have similar voices.

our dog however was a yellow labrador called Maud.

how she could confuse me, her 6'2 son with the dog is beyond me.

my mum could however be mistaken for the woman from the post office in Postman Pat. if the woman from the post office had a glass of sherry in her hand.
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 16:41, Reply)

Getting one's coat
I was at a gig one night, and near the end we (the band) were standing chatting out in the foyer of the hall, when one of the punters came up to my mate and said, "Get my coat for me". Mate replied instantly, "Get it yerself, pal!"

The bloke went apeshit, ranting about the rudeness of the staff in this place, until I quietly explained that we were the band and it wasn't actually our job to get people's coats, and that he could at least have asked politely anyway.

He went away with his tail between his legs. We laughed.

(We were dressed quite smartly and could, I suppose, have been mistaken for hall staff, except for the fact we'd been on stage for several hours playing for the audience, including this twunt, had he cared to notice).

Length? 7.30 until 11pm, as I remember.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 16:38, Reply)

My mother
Can't seem to tell the difference between me and my sisters/brother.

Sometimes she'll come up to me and run through all our names (sometimes including the cat's) before hitting on my own:

RaOlivEsthIsaacJaspRACHEL!

Which will prompt us to stare dumbfounded at each other for a few moments before bursting into hysterical laughter.
(therocker, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 16:29, Reply)

...
I used to look like this:



Oh how the teachers laughed and scalded me for my striking physical appearance which coincidentally is exactly the same, to the last pixel, as Joey Deacon...
(Snailfighter Mk VIII MASTER of the bits underneath the ledges on fences, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 16:24, Reply)

A bit of Topic, but.....
My old flatmate, whom we shall call Shadwell cos he was Welsh and it seemed funny at the time, would constantly mess up his favourite put down.
ME. "Do you have a match Shadwell?"
SHADWELL. "YES! My face and your arse,..... no wait, your arse and my face, no, no,, my match your face --oh fek off!!

every. single. time.

Actually quite a lot of topic.
(bugboybeast, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 16:22, Reply)

F*ck knows how I'd forgotten this one till now...
Many years ago (wavy lines), I used to run a National Trust estate that had about four acres of grounds.
At the time I had quite long hair that I generally kept in a ponytail (no, this isn't a story about being mistaken for a girl).
Anyway, one day I was working in the garden on a rather hot day. I'd been doing some strimming with an industrial strimmer (the kind you need to keep covered up to use), so after I'd finished I stripped down to my shorts and was having a quiet fag.
All of a sudden I was rugby tackled to the ground from behind and (what felt like) about eight coppers jumped on me. After a few seconds of struggling one of them shouted, "Hang on, he's over there!" and ran off. A few seconds later all of them had followed apart from one who stayed behind to apologise. They'd been chasing a car thief who was my height, had a ponytail and was dressed in identical shorts. They'd seen him run into the grounds and when they followed spotted me.
Anyway, I wasn't hurt or anything and they caught the guy before he got out of my garden (it had massive walls and the chavy twat couldn't climb).
At least I got to watch them roughly manhandle him into the awaiting police van (and he really did look like me).
(EvilMeister, Mon 4 Jun 2007, 15:51, Reply)