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This is a question Mistaken Identity

Jizzbiscuits-Murphy writes, "I was punched at a friend's party by a drunk who thought I was Russell Brand"

Well, if you dress anything like him, you probably deserved it, but who have you been mistaken for/mistaken other people for?

(, Thu 31 May 2007, 14:49)
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This question is now closed.

To our Transatlantic Friiends and B3Tans
I made this point in a Gaz lately - most posts which use a term which may be unfamiliar to US members often contain a "translation" - a very thoughtful touch I feel. Re the complaints of unfamiliar references, now you know how the rest of teh world feels watching US Tv progs and films eh ?
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 22:03, Reply)
Oberon-foxie
I agree - why should the 'merkins need to look up the b/c listers on google image anyway? It's not going to make any difference to the story, fucks sake!

Anyway, probably the lamest one apart from the bindun-to-death "Mistaken for someone who gives a fuck"...

Paul McClain from Neighbours (aka. Jansen Spencer). Lost count of the number of times it was pointed out - on buses, in bars, showing new starters round my 6th form college... wouldn't mind, but he's a gormless twunt. Thank fuck the likeness has disappeared over the past few years (I hope) ;)

Oh, just to keep the 'merkins happy, here's a link I found earlier. Now stop whining!

images.google.co.uk/imgres?imgurl=http://jansenspencer.com/portal/wp-content/uploads/2006/12/jansen_arch253.thumbnail.jpg&imgrefurl=http://jansenspencer.com/portal/%3Fp%3D6&h=86&w=96&sz=3&hl=en&start=5&tbnid=qz91RXg3NSOQbM:&tbnh=73&tbnw=81&prev=/images%3Fq%3Djansen%2Bspencer%26gbv%3D2%26svnum%3D10%26hl%3Den

*pop* - big fat knob etc.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 21:45, Reply)
Not terrifying...
...just irritating. Many of us don't have access to the British TV channels, so the humor is utterly lost when we have to spend fifteen minutes with Google trying to figure out the joke.

*sigh* Sometimes humor just doesn't translate well from Britain to the rest of the world...
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 21:38, Reply)
only just remembered this one
Back in the beautiful days of High School, Mr. Montrose was giving me a bollocking I had my indoor PE kit for an outdoor lesson.

Now, prior to this incident by some six weeks, I had left my kit on the train, and therefore only had the indoor one left. However, being that I only had eight weeks left in school when this happened, me mum refused to buy me a new one, the reasong being that, after summer holidays, it would be rendered useless.

Back to the incident... the argument went lke this:

Mr. Montrose: "James, why have you AGAIN, not got your correct kit in?"
Me: "I've already told you sir, I don't have the other one anymore because I've lost it."
Mr. Montrose: "No, you never told me that. Maybe Mr. Marshall, but not me!"
Me: "It was you."
Mr. Montrose: "No, you haven't told me because I have a good memory Paul!"

I've never tried to not laugh so hard in all of my life, and I didn't know which was funnier, the mis-justification of having a good memory, or the fact that he did correctly know my name at the start and then forgot it later on!
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 21:25, Reply)
Bindun?
More times than Dani Behr during cup final week.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 21:24, Reply)
I keep getting mistaken...
...for someone who gives a flying feck.

Bindun already?
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 21:10, Reply)
Ben Affleck? Who he?
As it happens, I've been mistaken for looking like a Somerfield staff member. Some customer asked me for directions to the tinned veg while I was buying my lunch. I told them they were fat and ugly, and quickly ran away. The thought of Somerfield dealing with some unknown pleb who had insulted a customer still makes me laugh.

I'm a very bad person.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 21:03, Reply)
When I was last in the states
I saw an advert for sausages in batter, on a stick. The batter had chocolate chips in.

I'd imagine that's intended to satisfy....
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 20:39, Reply)
oberon-foxie
FUCK YEAH!!!!!

what you said.

Its what we were all thinking
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 20:37, Reply)
To those complaining
Is it really terrifying to read that some b3tans look like people you've never heard of? However do you cope when we refer to places or things outside of the USA?

"Basingstoke? What on earth is a Basingstoke? NEW QOTW PLEASE"

Grow up and accept that not everything is intended to satisfy you.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 20:31, Reply)
For resident loon

*ahem*

George Clooney

*departs*
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 20:27, Reply)
Indeed.
For us Americans it's a bit on the ridiculous side sometimes- "I was mistaken for Todd Basington-ffrench Fotheringay-Phipps! But that was probably only because I was holding a newt..."

Aren't any of you ever mistaken for someone that we might have heard of? I'm getting mighty tired of Google Images...
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 20:15, Reply)
New QOTW?
As a Yank, 3/4 of the responses refer to people that are totally foreign (pun intended) to me. It would seem England is populated entirely by look-a-likes of b and c list celebrities.

At least I have been told I look like Ben Affleck...you guys know who he is, right?

Time to 'click next' Mr (or is it Ms.?) Manuel and come up with a new QOTW...

Cheers,
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 18:42, Reply)
"Mistook" it for mustard, eh?

(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 18:01, Reply)
hhhhheeeelll yyyyeeesssss
iiitttsss tttiiimmmeee fffooorrr aaa nnneeewww ooonnnee
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 17:39, Reply)
Regarding the post below
I think that now would be a suitable time for a new QOTW since the topic of shiteating has been raised.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 16:29, Reply)
Mustard
After changing our daughters nappy, (and not washing his hands), my husband mistakenly identified the brown goo on his fingers for mustard, and licked it off.

My how I laughed.

I still secretly giggle in the middle of the night as I remember his face as the realisation hit him.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 15:38, Reply)
Not me but a friend ...
came out of the gents in quite a swanky bar in Soho and saw one of his old school mates. He rushed over, yelling 'good to see you, mate, how are you?' and gave him a massive hug. At that moment he realised it wasn't a school mate at all. It was Ricky from Eastenders.

The shame.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 15:15, Reply)
oh! the memories
Back when I was younger and still had a libido - when I went out on the pull pissed up on a mixture of red and white wine* I would often be mistaken for a borg.


*Lethal when mixed together.




Resistance was futile.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 15:14, Reply)
When I was really little, I was in town with my parents & went running up to went up to my 'auntie'
Who turned around and gave me a really evil look & said 'I am not your auntie. Sorry.' She wasn't sorry. At all. She then smirked very condescendingly & nastily at me & I ran back to my parents crying. Worse thing is, they did not stop me running up to this woman in the first place! The shame!
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 14:38, Reply)
Hmm
Me, a jar of marmalade, a girl called Keisha and the carcass of a biro pen.

Sorry, I thought there was a new QOTW, my mistake.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 14:32, Reply)
Is this a joke?
A girl gave me her number today. I'm assuming she mistook me for someone worth asking out...


*cry*
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 14:23, Reply)
Meh
A better looking frank skinner?

Also got this years ago (lonely hearts column, student rag, on valentines day

"To the long blonde curly haired Art garfunkel look a like barman - we want your drinks and maybe your body"
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 14:14, Reply)
Mistaken i.d. - true story
Mistaken identity can be very serious and traumatic.

At the beginning of June, approximately two weeks after I had moved to ****, someone threw an egg at our window, followed half an hour later by a candle in a glass holder thrown at the back door. Neither of us had ever experienced anything like it and it really shook us up. We were hoping it would die down and possibly be an isolated incident so we were inclined to let it go.

A few days later, a water spray was thrown at the kitchen window. We really didn't know how to deal with them, especially as we didn't know who was doing them.

After about three weeks, this was followed up by a furious banging at our front door. Neither of us answered, and then the banging started again. When neither of us answered, a stone was pushed through the letterbox.

A week later, at about 11.30pm, we had another egg at our back window and half an hour later a large rock was thrown through our front window. After this, we reported the whole catalogue of incidents to the police; we had been keeping an incident diary. We, at first, didn't realise that it was our front window, as the house was on a terraced street and the houses were all very closely packed together. We looked out of the bedroom window, as we were upstairs at the time, and saw the whole street standing in the middle of the road half way down, just staring at our house. No one said anything, just stood and stared. Our neighbour came out and began talking to the pub landlady about it, standing right underneath our window.

Less than a week later, we had another incident of violent banging on the front door, I immediately got on the phone to the police and my partner saw a gang of youths running off down the road. Whilst I was speaking to the operator one of our neighbours came round and told us that the reason why we were being harassed and victimised was because a rumour was going round that I was Maxine Carr (of the Soham murders.) After hearing this, through my shock and disbelief, things fell into place - the behaviour of the neighbours, the staring, the refusal to help after our window was smashed. Things still haven't sunk in, I just feel sick and numb and in shock that I was somehow caught up in the Soham incident and I haven't done anything.

Things took a horrendous twist for the worse on the following Saturday - at 11.30pm a huge brick was catapulted through our front door. We were living in fear, we didn't dare leave the house and neither of us slept or ate.

The Superintendent of **** police got involved, we had a panic alarm fitted that went straight through to the police station and we had CCTV fitted front and rear to try to catch the gang.

However, after all of that, the back living room window was smashed - a huge brick - the type that is used in construction of industrial buildings - was thrown through our double glazed window. After that we knew we couldn't stay, there was no point, we were both ill and knew that whoever was behind all of it would never be caught.

We think that our neighbour was behind it all, he lived with his girlfriend and young daughter but behaved inappropriately around us. He constantly stared into our house, our kitchens faced each other and he was ALWAYS staring in. He kept coming out into his yard and looking through our windows, he asked my partner questions when they first met that weren't appropriate for a first meeting e.G what were the living arrangements, and "you slept in the living room for 2 weeks didn't you" etc. He was too creepy, told us all kinds of things like he'd tried to kill himself and things like that. We began to ignore him and that was when the egg throwing started. I never bothered waving over or anything and he even had the nerve to ask whether I was shy and was that why I never waved back whenever he stared into our windows! So when we had both had enough of his strange behaviour and ignored him, we began to have the egg throwing.

That street is full of secrets, I know for a fact that residents on that street know a lot more than they ever told the police. It was evil, a really evil place. And we KNOW that the freaky cnut of a next door neighbour started it. Because he was a pervert and got off on us living next door. Btw, he even asked if his porn kept us awake..........says it all - he watched it (turned up) cos he wasn't getting any and his only outlet for his sad frustration was to get off imagining us hearing it! Incidentally we never heard it.

Moral of the story - make sure your neighbours aren't sexually frustrated, perverted, sad, in-the-closet gays with a chip on their shoulder(rugby lookalikies with high pitched effeminate voice) with a habit of staring into your windows. It makes life easier.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 13:53, Reply)
Waxwork
In the Jorvik Viking Museum in York there is apparently a waxwork of a viking that is my double.
My brother and one of my sisters even persuaded the staff to let them have their picture taken with it. When they showed the picture to my neices and nephews and asked who it was they all said "Uncle Dicky"
Oh well - back to the usual round of rape and pillage.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 13:52, Reply)
Currently
I am probably being mistaken for someone who is very busy. Head down, typing furiously, lots of paperwork around. Yup, being messy and chatting on messenger is a great way to disguise my lack of work :)
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 13:31, Reply)
Your mum
That is all.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 12:39, Reply)
I used to
regularly be described as some sort of bastard hybrid of Rowan Atkinson, Louis Theroux and (Aaargh!) Ben Elton. Or even (worse) David Baddiel.

A few years back I used to wear black-rimmed John Lennon-type glasses. With the first Harry Potter film looming I realised I had to change them before life became unbearable. It finally did when I was in a gay club and some queen came over shreiking "Oooh! You look just like Harry Potter!! Let me see your wand!"

I went to Specsavers the very next day.

My parentage is Scots-Persian. (Yes, darlings, it was Persia in 1963, not Iran.) I have that slightly swarthy middle-eastern look. Makes it bloody hell coming back through Passport Control, though I was born & bred in Blighty.

size/length/width/etc
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 12:31, Reply)
He never did the dance, though...
PJM reminded me about lookalike bosses: the worst boss I ever had was a dead spit for David Brent (from The Office, although this was long before that), right down to the goatee beard. He even played guitar and fancied himself a songwriter (not entirely unjustifiably: I'd name a well-known band he wrote for, but it'd be too incriminating).

Sadly, he was a similarly awful boss. Completely unable to defer to any of his subordinates, he believed that he knew best in any given situation and would argue until he went purple over the most trivial of points -- even with people who were manifestly more knowledgable than him. He thought he was funny but couldn't spot a joke if it bit him on the arse. And he wasn't even very good at his own job.

In short, he was a cunt. He's actually quite well-known in his field, and I've heard numerous accounts of him since that end with much the same conclusion.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 11:58, Reply)
piratischoo, you've reminded me...
I used to play squash when I was younger. My coach kept calling me "Simon Junior" untill my dad pointed out I was female.
(, Thu 7 Jun 2007, 10:36, Reply)

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