My latest?
Hmmm... Not fair. My best mate is a dead ringer for the runner Roger Black who back in the day was a pin up. I have a friend of the female persuasion who bears a resemblance to Claudia Schiffer (albeit less German and more sweary) and another friend was a dead ringer for one of the chaps from Bros, which eased his passage into many a young lady's undergarments.

Me? Well in addition to regularly being accused of hailing from Italy thanks to my dark, curly hair and my taste in dark coloured clothing (you'd think the blue eyes would be a giveaway, but no....). A few years back I wore glasses and my hair was very short, so it was pointed out that I looked like the bad bloke in The Sixth Day. Over the years it has been suggested that I resemble Chris Barrie and a young Tom Hanks. Bah.

However, I've had two amusing celebrity look alike bosses over the years. One chap bore an uncanny likeness to Begbie from Trainspotting and another was a dead ringer for John Leslie. Watch out girls....
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 7 Jun 2007, 10:34, Reply)

Who'd have thought it?
Wandering around town the day after the night before, hiding behind enormous sunglasses (as one does) when a spotty, lanky and frankly, hideous boy stopped me.
"Excuse me, but would I be able to get your autograph?"
Stunned, I asked him to repeat himself.
"Oh, I'm sorry Ms Jolie, I didn't mean to bother you..."

There you have it, folks. I'm apparently a dead ringer for the delicious Angelina Jolie when I'm hungover and sulking about my headache.
And yes, it's happened more than once.
(is0lati0n, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 7:18, Reply)

I am a hispanic male...
Jet Black Hair. Dark Burt Reynolds type moustache. Bushy Elvis Eyebrows.

When I walk down the street Indian and Middle Eastern People smile at me like they know me. They actually look at me like I'm Famous and are afraid to ask for my autograph.

Maybe I look like a Bollywood Star.
(madvoodoo it must be the moon, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 5:28, Reply)

OOoooh also at uni
I think i saw Thom Yorke attending a funeral! The town was Aberystwyth the year probs 2001-2002ish
(deleted, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 0:56, Reply)

Uni Kicking
When i was at University in deepest darkest wales I had a case of mistaken identity. I wondered home after a heavy smoke n playstation evening (as is so frequently enjoyed by the student fraternity). Upon arriving outside my seafront hall of residence I noticed some jelly legged booze hounds passing, after enjoying the local ale houses buy a pint and get a shot of meths (although they called it vodka) offer. I thought nothing of it and began battling with the needlessly complicated lock. I looked into a parallel window and aknowledged a friend chuckling at my stoner fingers pathetic attempt to open the door.

At this point i'll explain that the sea front of said town is a fairly bustling place of an evening and theres allot going on so when i heard the two lads shout its ''Its fuckin im'' I thought nothing of it assuming they'd spotted a rival meathead up the road. Unfortunately no, one of them had spotted me. I heard some kind of banter about me being '' that gay what spilt it''. I sort of looked round to see one of them coming at me. I was suddenly inside my top being hit. What happened next is a bit of a blur. I'm pretty sure i kicked someone somewhere and then my mates appeared at the door and they were gone. I was fine really, although my rose tinted view of the town was a bit sullied.

Apparently only one of them had gone for me the other had tried to drag him off. I suspect he's one of those people who have to fight when they drink. Probably something brought on by buggerings from amorous uncles.
(deleted, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 0:35, Reply)

staying at a posh hotel in liverpool once
i know, i didn't think there were any either. anyway, i was about 8 and my brothers and dad were there to watch the utd-liverpool game. i was there to play in the spa and to get a mars bar at half time (we were never allowed chocolate at home).

so we're in reception waiting for the players to come out of some ceremony or other and head off to anfield. and my older brother is clutching a pen and paper and wetting himself with excitement. when the teams came running through the hotel, he shoved it into my hand and told me to go and get the autographs.

well, i wouldn't know a footballer out of his strip if he bit me on the ass (although i might enjoy it if it was beckham or van nistelrooy). i turned in helpless 8 year old circles in the middle of these photographers' flashes and men running through the crowds to their coaches in the carpark. eventually i found one man who was walking slowly and wearing a uniform. result. so i asked him for his autograph.

i can still see his bemused face as he stared at me. "what? my autograph?" he said in disbelief.

i had asked the bellboy....................
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 0:31, Reply)

My boss.
I work in a happy shopper outpost in the depths of Hertfordshire when one day I almost got very, very severely buggered for shoplifting. By my boss.

I'm just doing the usual jobs. Moving stock. Stacking stock. Cleaning where stock goes. Eating stock. When my boss walks in the door and starts having a right go at me, telling me to get, and I quote, "The fuck out from behind that til" else he would have "called the fucking police." What a bastard!

In all fairness, he had just returned from a two week holiday in which time I had cut my emo medium-long hair and had it down to a Peter Parker type length.

Doesn't stop me spitting in the soup pot.
(MunchMyBalloons, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 0:26, Reply)

Clint Sexwood
With extra sex.

That's just how sexy I am.
(Mark3y needs to put some welly in to it, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 20:28, Reply)

Short hair
Sat down for a nice chat with a bloke at the gym with my dad a few years ago, trying to get us to buy a membership. The guy prattles on for a bit about the facilities and stuff. Then he turns to me and:

Nice man: "and there's lots of activities for your son to enjoy too!"

-long pause-

Dad: "Actually, she's a girl."
(piratischoo, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 19:46, Reply)

Just this noon
I was mistaken for a bit of playground equipment by an orange tiger kitten. He made it to my knee before he decided that that was a mistake.

It's more than a little silly to be attacked by something resembling an orange Hostess Sno-Ball.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 6 Jun 2007, 19:42, Reply)

Just remebered another one
Where I used to live in darkest Gloucestershire, there was a chap who was a chubby skinhead - no tattoos (I think), but hair shaved down to the bone - spitting image of George Dawes - he was even asked for his autograph in Bristol.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 19:22, Reply)

When my hair was long...
...David Essex - twice

Billy Mackenzie (The Associates)

Or more usually - fuckin' hippy!
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 19:16, Reply)

I should have said 'no' just like Zammo...
I am blessed with the good fortune of living in the same town as the actor John Drummond, aka Trevor Cleaver from Grange Hill.

Being of a similar height and having the same locks of golden... er... rust. I am often mistaken for him when out drinking in the town centre. This is usually met with contempt as I snarl for the umpteenth time in an evening that I am NOT the fire-crotched acting wonder.

That is until one time, a rather attractive lady approaches me in the late hours of evening and starts flirting with me. She asks the dreaded question, but keen as my breeding skills were at the time, I said that "yes, I am Trevor from Grange Hill".

Cue an hour of bullshit conversation about Roly being a great guy and how Mrs McLusky was quite the GILF in real life in a feeble attempt to end up in the sack with this beautiful creature. It worked.

But alas I was struck with a sorry heart the next day... I had lied to this apparent 8-9 pinter that I was someone I am not... but also with the fact that this person wanted to sleep with a famous person, but only set her standards as to an ex Grange Hill child star.

I dressed quickly and let myself out feeling slightly sickened with myself...



Length? Its ok, it was Trevor's for the evening...
(Hunkychunkylovemonkey hasn't masturbated since, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 17:14, Reply)

Thom Yorke
Just give me a bottle of vinegar!!!
(Formaly Over say's hello, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 17:00, Reply)

Could have been nasty!
Back in my youth some mates went to a house party – smoking drinking etc. They needed more weed so called the local dealership to get sorted. Mr Dealer asked if I was there and was told I wasn’t so he went round and sorted everyone. It turns out that some bloke called spikeypickle had grassed him and a few mates up for dealing. The guy knew who I was and obviously pretty pissed off. Threats were and messages left for me along the lines of broken legs, severe damage etc etc. Needless to say everyone at the party was a bit shocked and protested my innocence. It did no good. Dealer and his mates wanted retribution and compensation by way of blood. As you can imagine I was pretty shit scared. Where I lived was only a small place so I figured it wasn’t going to be long before they caught up with me and gave me a sound beating. Over the next few weeks things were still unresolved and I was still thought of by as a grass by this little dealership. I spent quite a while looking over my shoulder. The thing was I’d actually drank and smoked with this guy on more than one occasion and he definitely knew who I was so the end result (a beating at least) seemed pretty inevitable.

Fast forward a few weeks…..

I was drinking in the next town when Mr Dealer and his somewhat psychotic mates walked in. This pub in question has a bit of funny layout and hence I went unnoticed. It was only a matter of time until they clocked me and had words. I bit the bullet and headed over – if I was getting a kicking they may as well do it now.

Me: “Alright Mr Dealer, I here you’ve been looking for me”

Mr Dealer: RAGE RAGE RAGE “I think we should go outside and discuss this”

I declined his generous offer and instead protested my innocence and the fact that some little fucker who just happened to share my name had in fact done the deed while his mates looked increasingly agitated and prone to violence regardless of the location. After much discussion and me coming damn close to death he eventually seemed to believe me. He asked me outside again ‘for a smoke’. I reckon I was going to get a kicking regardless of whether I went outside now or left at the normal time in which case they would be waiting. Off I went, round the back of the pub with him and a couple of his mates, big fuckers they were. Mr Dealer rolled a spliff and we smoked. All was good. In fact he even gave me £15.00 to go and score him an 8th (back in the day when an 8th cost £15.00) as his stash was at home and he wasn’t heading back til late. I duly obliged. The bottom line is that all went after much arguing and stern words and I never got a kicking.

Here’s the mistaken identity bit. The chap that grassed him up was actually called spikeypickle and I’d already been told this about a week or 2 beforehand. This little fact was used during my protestations of innocence which took some doing as my full name is pretty uncommon. I was pretty annoyed with this spikeypickle and made a promise to Mr Dealer that once I had a bit more info on him I would the details on. I found him. The town isn’t big and knew enough people to find out eventually where this spikeypickle was. I found out were he lived etc and let Mr Dealer know. I’ve no idea what happened after that but I hope he was given a few good whacks on my behalf.

I swear this was all true and the story is still told over 10years later.
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 16:13, Reply)

fattie Jones
At a friends wedding reception my sister's ex-boyfriend stared at me for a short while before pointing at me and saying

"You look a bit like that Catherine Zeta-Jones"

Ahh, I thought, maybe he isn't the complete cock I had him down as.

Then he added,

"But fatter."
(bonobos_know_the_way, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 16:11, Reply)

yellow stain
I was mistaken for someone two weeks ago. A man walked up to my table at lunch and banged into it while saying "were you giving a talk last night". As he banged the table a yellow bit of coronation chicken fell onto my nice white shirt obviously staining it. I don't know whether it was the yellowness of the stain or the idea that I'd be giving a public talk that shocked me more. I just stared at him with a 'you've stained my shirt look'. He started walking away saying "you do look a lot like him".
(cannonfodder fodder for cannons on, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 16:00, Reply)

Gender confusion...
My mom once happened to be at the same mall I was (unbeknownst to me, of course). When she passed me on the walkway, I called at her, and she looked back in surprise, saying "I thought you were a boy!" (I'm not.)

Edit: Waiters and cashiers also frequently call me 'sir'. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I'm pretty sure that by most standards, I am considered at least mildly attractive, as a woman. I'm either doing something very wrong, or a great many register monkeys are quite stupid and/or blind.
(Rem Sir, why are you thrashing about on the floor?, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 15:33, Reply)

I often get mistaken for other women -
it's quite strange and I just smile and laugh it off.

I used to develop people's photo's, whilst working for Kodak, and spoookily (three 'o's) found myself looking at a photo of me, surrounded by people I didn't know. Took me a good few minutes to work out that I'd been staring at a double of myself - it really messed with my head.

I also get the shopworker-mistaken-identity thing, which I generally try to be helpful about. The one thing that really annoys me is when I get mistaken for Tourist Information. This happens quite regularly as I live in a small town with 5 routes out to bigger towns. People obviously can't read a map or signpost, and as I happen to have a massive fugging blue 'i' above my head, they MUST stop and ask me. Regardless of if I'm carrying four tonnes of shopping up a steep hill, trying to deal with my 2.5yr old and looking a bit stressed. Idiots.
(surfergirl is riding the wave of luurvveee, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 15:23, Reply)

A drunk scouser...
...once confused me, on a crowded train just outside Shrewsbury, for "that whiney cunt- what's her name? fuckin'- fuckin' Avril La-whasserface."

I was mortified for two reasons. He proceeded to shout her name very loudly in a crowded carriage, which in itself is embarassing enough, to have some drunken lunatic shouting at you on a scummy arriva train. But the fact that a) I am much cooler than Avril Lavigne and b) I could tell people were really thinking "wtf, she's not even nearly foxy enough to be that minxy little sexpot" made me go red as a tomato, I kid ye not.

That is the only time I've been mistaken for anyone interesting. There was this girl who followed me around a theme park for about 20 minutes insisting that my name was Claire...
(meggcup, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 15:19, Reply)

American Idle ...
It seems I bear a passing resemblance to winner of American Idol from a couple of years ago, Taylor Hicks (Old, overweight, grey, stupid).

It was mentioned by a couple of sad arses who were watching it over here at the time. This in itself was not a problem until I was in the states on holiday a short time after. I first noticed something was wrong when people started shouting 'Soul Patrol' at me in the street. After telling the 100th person "no, I just look a bit like him. No, honestly I am not him. No, I can't sing that for you. No, I can't sign your book/receipt/tits. No, just f*%£ off you stupid c*^+" I was ready to crack. Will the Americans ever learn to take no for an answer ?

....and then of course I realised the potential. Two weeks later, after many free drinks, tit signing, grapples with yankee ladies and general misbehaviour it was time to head back to blighty.

God bless America ! God bless stupid Americans !


(Apologies to all non-stupid Americans)
(Johnnyvax, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 14:58, Reply)

Jesus
Since I have long hair and a beard, I'm often compared to Jesus. Being far from middle-eastern descent, I can't seem to work out the reason why. Oh yes, ignorance.

Unfortunately I managed to come to this reasoning on a trip to Jerusalem. Note: screaming out "NO, I AM NOT FUCKING JESUS!" in the holy city is generally not a good idea, making you seem like a berk every time you go through passport control for I quote 'inciting religious hatred'.

I'm not welcome back, am I? ;____;
(aurora-borealis went to the market..., Wed 6 Jun 2007, 14:54, Reply)

Truly Mistaken
I once got mistaken for a caring, thoughtful and sensitive lover.

Boy, was she ever wrong.

Length? Not long at all, temporally speaking.
(Mozchops ... just not in the face, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 14:45, Reply)

kintore_homeboy,

cunt stubble is the last thing those people want.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 13:58, Reply)

Toadfish...

i looked much more like the bloke 4 - 5 years ago and used to get shouted at in the street!

I AM NOT AUSTRAILIAN, I'M A FAT HALF JOCK HALF GEORDIE!

had to stop wearing my lovely hawiian shirts!
( Druss_The_Legend Splurge!, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 13:51, Reply)

Just remembered something...
that happened one night about a year ago when i was out on the piss.

Some rather atractive girl in one of my locals told me i looked like Matt from Busted. i said "What, like a twat?" to which she replied "Yes" and walked away.

Made me chuckle.
(BatCountry organised, attended, and was thrown out on, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 13:47, Reply)

Ben Miles, out of Coupling
People kept telling me I looked like Ben Miles, who's in the BBC sitcom Coupling (clicky). I watched it a couple of times to see what they meant and I have to admit I can see what they're on about: I actually found it vaguely disturbing.

"What are you doing, Olembe?!" I wanted to shout at the screen. But Mrs Olembe wouldn't have approved.
( Olembe Refuses to write in this space, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 13:45, Reply)

I'm often mistaken for a 14y/o school girl...
until the paedophiles track me down and find out I'm a police constable.
(kintore_homeboy tenuous links since 1986!, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 13:43, Reply)

Block Rockin' Twat...
I have mentioned on here that I've been mistaken for a bloke before. A transvestite, no less. However, never until this particular incident was it a famous bloke.

Barrowlands, Glasgow, I was about 21. I'm at a gig, I'm buying a beer at the bar. I hear two youngish blokes behind whispering "you ask", "no, you ask".

I turned round to them and smiled sweetly, thinking one of them had noticed my slim figure (*) and blonde locks flowing from under my (then) uber trendy beanie hat and might be about to chat me up.

They looked horrifed, then embarrased.

"Oh, shit, sorry, we thought you were that blonde speccy bloke from the Chemical Brothers."

Sometimes, I feel really special...

(*) total lack of tits.
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 13:16, Reply)

flimflam_machine has reminded me
Post exams at uni in Cardiff, I invited a bunch of friends from home up for a weekend long smoke-a-thon to celebrate another slim victory over the examining body.

Naturally we got absurdly high, and at one point managed to grab some sleep.

It was about 3am. I was happily slumbering in my king size bed with a bunch of friends on the floor betwixt me and door, when the door cracks open and the light comes on.

I am a light sleeper, even when stoned, so this woke me up, causing me to see an unfamiliar face poking round the door.

I blinked my bleary eyes at it, and it uttered these words (in a horribly Welsh accent) "oh. I think I'm in the wrong house"

I quickly summoned all the venom I could muster and retorted "I think you might be"

he scarpered as you would expect.

what makes matters worse is that he came into our house, stuck his head around my mate's door to see him sat there, stoned, playing championship manager, said "alright mate" at which point my friend (I suspect him of being autistic) didn't acknowledge that he wasn't supposed to be in that house.

the guy then proceeded about as far from the front door as he could get (i.e. my room) without twigging that the weirdly decorated and wholly unfamiliar house that he was in wasn't the correct one.

that's the welsh for you though
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 12:49, Reply)