Have you ever been mistaken for someone else? A celebrity perhaps? An actor or singer? Tell us about it.
Some years ago I was at a coffee bar in London. I remember the man serving behind the counter. He'd had a charisma transplant. I mean he had all charisma taken away from him. Hardly the sort of person you'd put at front of shop meeting customers.
Anyway, I was sitting there with my latte coffee when I was approached by two young ladies. They were French, judging by their accents. They could have been Belgian or any other nationality for all I knew. But they had a French accent.
"Excuse moi ... me ..." said the first one, "you are being zee actor from zee America TV show Friends? N'est ce pas?"
I awoke from my daydream and mumbled, "Hein?"
"You are Jennifer Aniston!" she declared.
Now I can assure you that I do not look one bit like a woman. Whether it is Jennifer Aniston or anyone else. For a start I have a beard.
I was about to say something when the young lady interrupted me by adding, "my friend 'ere ... she says you not Jennifer Aniston ... you is Gregory Peck. Zee man from zee film Magnum who is friends wiz Monica Geller!"
Well, to cut a long story short, I spoke to them in perfect French and put them right. I told them I was the man who plays the gorilla in the film King Kong, and that I was on my way to an audition for the part of a dinosaur in the latest version of Jurassic Park.
They believed me and got my autograph!
The other day, the same thing happened again.
I went to see the doctor to check up on my sense of humour. As I entered the Insulting Room I said, "Morning doctor ... you must be new here. Not the usual doctor I always see".
"I am not the doctor," he said, "I am the painter, as you can tell from my paint stained clothes, the pots of paint, and the brushes".
"Why are you in the doctor's office?" I asked.
He was rather irritated. Probably related to the coffee bar worker in London from all those years ago.
"Because the butcher, the baker and the candle-stick maker do not want their premises painted," he said with total lack of charisma and a personality as welcome as a fart in a space suit.
"But ... but ... I have come to see the doctor!" I mumbled.
"You won't see him today," he growled, "he is sick!"
"Oh dear ..." I sympathised, "I hope it's not serious!"
"That's a blue herring," he replied picking up a pot of blue paint.
"Actually, it is a red herring!" I corrected him, "not blue."
He looked at the pot of paint in his hand, which confirmed it was blue. He shook his head and said nothing.
I ventured a question, "Do you have a relative who works in a coffee bar in London?" I asked.
He replied, "Coffee is not everyone's cup of tea!"