Welcome to the OC, bitch!
Mischa Barton. No real resemblance I can see other than being tall with long light brown hair.

I'm ridiculously good-looking, obviously, just look nothing like her.
(mookroolz, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 8:05, Reply)

Many moons ago
I found myself living in Cape Town doing nothing more than drinking cheap beer and smoking cheap weed. One of my regular haunts was a place called Fat Boys where you could drink as much as you like for 30 rand (about 4 quid).

So one night, after consuming vast quantities of lager, wine, spirits and whatever other low quality alcohol they had going, I was pretty damn shit faced. It was about 4am in the morning and the cleaners had turned up to start clearing up all the plastic cups and beer cans. As I didn’t have anything else to do at the time I decided to join in.

My mates stepped over me on the way out asking me what the fuck I was doing as I was crawling around on my hands and knees clearing up after myself and others. They told me to hurry up, pointing out that I didn’t want to be left by myself in the centre of Cape Town at 4 in the morning. Not the safest place to be.

I eventually stumbled out and found myself alone on the warm, dark streets of Cape Town. Luckily I spied a cab and jumped in the back. “Observatory” I slurred, for that was the name of the suburb in which I was staying.

“I don’t know where that is” replied the young lady behind the wheel.

Hmmmm, I thought, a young lady driving a cab at night in South Africa, doesn’t seem the safest vocation. Oh well. “I’ll direct you.”

We eventually made it home and as I was getting out of the cab I asked how much? The poor girl who was looking quite terrified at this point meekly pointed out “I’m not a cab.”

It would appear I had just jumped in some poor woman’s car and demanded she take me home. Ooops.
(Creamy Discharge Freeze Motherstickers, this is a fuck up, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 7:54, Reply)

World Cup 1998
Whilst this was going on in France, I was walking down the road with a mate of mine - after watching a game at the pub.

I must admit, thinking back, I did look a bit of a cock, weighing about 20 stone at the time, and having BRIGHT bleached blonde hair.

I only realised just how much of a cock I looked when, in the middle of a conversation about England's team selection or something, a car sped past full of chavs, and someone sat in the back shouted "Gazza!" - I was heartbroken :(



Inserts cock joke
(mercemployee, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 7:00, Reply)

Ugly sisters
I work in a place where we have nuns. Two of our older nuns are sisters (related wise not just sisters as in nuns, if you know what I mean). The oldest one looks like Boris Karloff (old nasty Boris, not young movie star Boris) and her younger sister looks like Albert Steptoe. We therefore refer to them as Boris and Albert (but not to their faces, of course). If you look like that it’s a good enough reason to become a nun methinks.
(Monkee girl not a monkee, not a girl, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 3:57, Reply)

Ah, Bendigo
I went out clubbing in Bendigo semi-recently (I'm not proud of it, but we all have our moments of weakness) with a few local mates.

While standing in line to get into the local dodgy pill palace, some chick taps me on the shoulder and asks "when do you guys leave?"

I had no idea what this young lady was on about, until I was informed that the Bendigo Show was on that weekend.

"Doesn't the show leave tomorrow? You guys ARE carnies, right?"






Next time I have to go to Bendigo, I need to get diplomatic immunity. And a tranquiliser gun.
(Chewy Walrus says: It's slobberin' time!, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 3:55, Reply)

Apparently
i am a dead ringer for a cunt.
( Slippery Mick ‏, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 2:53, Reply)

They even like the same drink.
My father, who's been in the design industry for a few decades now, is a dead ringer for the head of the Graphic Design course at the University I attend. There's been a few times where I've walked around the corner, bumped into him and asked "uh...what are you doing here?" only to be met with "I run the bloody department!" acting as a sharp reminder that my father is not following me, thankfully.
(Grey, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 2:12, Reply)

Identity! Identity! They've all mistaken my identity!
I've often been ribbed* for looking a bit like John Inman or Kenneth Williams.

Doesn't happen so much now that I tip the scales at 14 stone. Mmmmmm pies.

*i.e. been subjected to a drunken social worker screeching "Ooooh maaaaatron!!" into my ear at any opportunity
(TheThinMan, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 2:02, Reply)

oh yeah...
...I saw my brother's mate paul outside a club once talking to some people I knew, so I drunkenly ran up and picked him up, then ran around the street with him on my shoulder for a bit. except when I put him down I found out it was actually paul's older brother who I'd never met before...but apparently that sort of thing happens all the time.
( yes yes yes man oi mate, someone's writtten 'bum' on your neck, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 1:48, Reply)

... and Now
There is a sign at my desk by my family pictures which cheerfully thanks visitors for not pointing out that my father-in-law (not the one I poked... that was decades ago) looks like Osama bin Laden.

(Note to CSIS: He doesn't. Some people just have no visual acuity.)
(socialised_medicine quietly returns to Saskatchewan for Lurkfest 2007, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 1:46, Reply)

Then...
Many years ago, after a night of activities we won't discuss because there are children present, I went out to the kitchen to bid my Sheikh a good morning. Wish I'd had my contact lenses in, though... I'm sure my boyfriend's rotund middle-aged (now elderly) dad still has theories as to why I came up behind him and playfully poked him in the sides.
(socialised_medicine quietly returns to Saskatchewan for Lurkfest 2007, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 1:42, Reply)

I have been called a variety of things
They all look nothing like each other but apparently they all look like me. Some I am more tolerant of than others.

In my shorter hair days I was informed that I looked first of all like Prince Harry, then like James from Busted (okay, we share a name but I don't think I look much like him).

My hair got longer and the names changed. For example, whilst enjoying a quiet pint in the pub one summer evening a fat bloke across the room launched himself to his feet and, with an accusatory finger outstretched, yelled "Hanson!" before launching into the chorus of Mmmbop.

The most recent has been Stuart Cable, as one of the students in the college where I just started a new job politely informed me on my first day.

I dread to think what might come next.
( shovelboy This is bad - Two minutes to Belgium, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 1:39, Reply)

a few weeks ago...
...I stumbled into a bar at about 1ish, in brighton where I live. I saw the spitting image of a bloke called darren that I used to know up in sheffield. same clothes, same face, same hair. I went up to him and shouted "oi darren!". the bloke said "my name's not darryl"

so I said "no, I said DARREN"

cos in my mind the problem was that he'd misheard me, not that he wasn't who I thought he was. I eventually had to be led away by a friend. I was a little bit confused.
( yes yes yes man oi mate, someone's writtten 'bum' on your neck, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 1:35, Reply)

My friend
He once came up to me when i was sitting on a bench waiting for the bus. He hit me around the head.
The problem was, i was already on the bus home..
He'd just hit a random stranger around the head.
Nothing happened after that...
( Cae1, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 1:34, Reply)

Big Brother - 'They're All Women'
Well, the old speccy fart and the one with pink hair are a bit suspect.
(Fatima Whitbread's hardon drugs and the causes of drugs, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 1:14, Reply)

For some reason, kids would keep sking me if I was 'The big show'
Which was quite odd, since I'm about as foot shorter than the man, I did have a very close resemblence to said fellow.

I now have a look of bill bailey, or so people sem to think.

picture
( Wildheart Baby. Drunken Mess In A Good Way, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 0:59, Reply)

Mistaken Identity
I remember when I watched Lord Of The Rings round a friends house for the first time.

His dad kept saying "Is that your mam?" to my mates mother every time an Orc appeared on the screen.
(Fatima Whitbread's hardon drugs and the causes of drugs, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 0:53, Reply)

immitation being the sincerest form of slattery
I look like Tony Slattery. I never knew that until people pointed it out to me.

Such as the people who I met at uni that insisted on calling me Tony and I even abandoned my real name for three years. Of course, my brother is also called Tony so this made holidays confusing. I could no longer label my own pants and stuff with confidence..

So I was Tony.

Worse was to follow as every fat / thin phase I have had that cunt's done the same. I even saw him on this morning talking about panic attacks and stuff when I was off ill from work due to a panic attack I'd had in my car due to a dodgy valve leaking carbon monoxide through the vents.

Seems the only thing that stops me from being him is that he's never ever laid claim to being me.

I also have to change the words in my head to Echo and the Bunnymen's 'My Kingdom' to King dong in the chorus as he's now in that fucking norfolk based show of the same name.

Length? It's his fault I now sing King Dong
(spike starski, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 0:31, Reply)

sigh...
Apparently I have looked like:

Hugh Grant
Richard Ashcroft
Gareth Southgate
Gary Neville
Phil Neville
Mr Logic from Viz.

After Euro 1996 I ditched the centre parting. Apparently I now look like Peter Crouch.

Meanwhile, my dad is an absolute dead ringer for Donald Sutherland, to the extent that I couldn't watch "Don't Look Now" as it looked like Julie Christie, one of the most perfect women imaginable, was being shagged by my old man. Most disturbing.
(silencer, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 0:18, Reply)

My nephew
My nephew is 8 and wears glasses. Ahh. When he was 6 he looked like the kid off of Jerry Maguire so I taught him to say "you talk funny" whilst pushing his glasses back up his nose. Now he looks a bit like Harry Potter. He even has a lightning shaped scar on his forehead from where he fell and banged his head years ago. He was in Hong Kong recently and a load of giggling school girls stopped him in the street with his mum and they all pointed at him saying "ha! Harry Potter!". He apparently got quite angry and stomped his feet, one hand on his hip and said to the girls "I'm not Harry Potter! I'm Jake Smith!" (using his real name though). Which is just about the cutest thing.

Oh erm. Its me isnt it. Obligatory offensive bit. Erm, spunkbubble.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 0:12, Reply)

Tell me what you want, what you really, really want...
I've been saving this. Absolutely my last ex-wife story ever:

Ex-Mrs PJM was (and is) best described as being short, loud, busty and blonde. That in itself is by no means unique, but when we first started dating in 1997, the blonde was accentuated with red/brown streaks and she was rarely if ever without her favorite pair of platform trainers. You can probably see where this is going, but on more than one occasion when she was made up for a night out it would seem the only thing she was missing to complete the ensemble was a Union Flag dress.

Her resemblance to a certain Spice Girl was an annoyance to her (and probably justifiably so), but I have seen people stop in their tracks and double take as she walked past quietly (and believe you me, she rarely did anything at less than 110 decibels) fuming.

I recall her being amusingly put out one afternoon when walking through the town, when a small child stopped, pointed at ex-Mrs PJM and said loudly "Mummy, mummy it's HER!".

[edit] To be fair, she could sing more tunefully than the immensely annoying and spectacularly untalented la Halliwell, but then so can I when I have caught my genitals in my zip.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 1 Jun 2007, 0:10, Reply)

'Stress testers'
in Birmingham city centre keep mistaking me for a gullible fuckwit with more money than sense who hasn't heard of scientology.
( Beve The Spaniard broke off his horse's head, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 0:04, Reply)

A friend of mine... (it always is)
...has on two occasions been mistaken for Stephen Hawking by Japanese tourists. There is a faint resemblance- both are, after all, in electric wheelchairs- but my friend (James) is both ginger and young and so looks nowt like the esteemed Lucasian Professor of Mathematick.
(Le Misanthrope last procrastinated on, Thu 31 May 2007, 23:55, Reply)

Pete Doherty and Me
I don't see it, my mates don't see it but after two years I STILL have random strangers comming up to me and saying I look like everyones favorite crack addict.



It's me on the left for the stupid in here.
( Spam Filter Formerly known as Superdude, Thu 31 May 2007, 23:53, Reply)

One of my
ex-girlfriends used to mistakenly refer to me as 'daddy' during sex.

I cannot comment further, as I now need to 'lie down'.
(cs1ca, Thu 31 May 2007, 23:44, Reply)

If you've ever seen a picture of me
and ever listened to Chorizowagon, then you may say that I look like Ant McPartlin from Ant & Dec.

Obviously I don't.
( M3rx likes the Asian ladies, Thu 31 May 2007, 23:42, Reply)

Unfamiliar Families
A few years ago whilst walking into town with my Mum says
'Oh my god, there's yer father, at the bus stop across the road'

They hadn't got round to making up, following their divorce a good 25 years earlier, so Mum did her best to ignore the other side of the road and I crossed over to greet him.

The road was pretty busy so my time was spent looking both ways an waiting to cross safely.

Eventually I got over the road and said
'Hey Dad, almost didn't see ya there'
then, after looking up
'and that's 'cause your not my Dad!'
I made my apologies feeling very silly indeed, and, probably, with a bus stop full of people wondering how I could mistake a stranger for my Dad !!

Worse still I see this guy all the time now an he still says hello.
(booboobidou, Thu 31 May 2007, 23:30, Reply)

Not really mistaken identity
But an alarming number of people have told me I look like Osama Bin Laden. Me, a 17-year old caucasian, with a beard only a tiny fraction of the splendour of the renowned international terrorist's.

I have yet to be mistaken for him, but still, it alarms me.
(WarneMarsh My priority for frivolity begets quality jollity, Thu 31 May 2007, 23:30, Reply)

Ahh, Daddy
Many years ago my mum was in the local paper and out of the corner of her eye she spotted a familiar face, several in fact, on the front of every tabloid. Closer inspection revealed a police mugshot of this chap and details of his antics over the last few years




bizarrely 40 years before this my mam had married this handsome fellow



and she was somewhat surprised to say the least. My dad thinks it's a hoot, not much else he can do under the circumstances, although Doctor Harry's demise put pay to a tribute act unfortunately but there you go.

Then a few months ago the Metro had news of the first gay civil partnership to end in a separation, involving these 2 gents, pay close attention to Darryl Bullock, the one on the right




which caused great amusement at work and everywhere where anyone knows this ugly twat aka me



Brilliant that. How I laughed!!

Edit: Anyone calls me a gayer I'll get me Dad to do yer granny in.
(tinypod will never learn. Ever., Thu 31 May 2007, 23:28, Reply)