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)