Monday, February 16, 2009


Dead for a ringer

I was about to sit down at the table in the Arms with some mates when I noticed a bloke at an adjacent table grinning and waving at me. Ever one to learn from my mistakes, I glanced around to check that he wasn't actually waving to someone behind me: he wasn't. Not one to disregard random friendly strangers, I returned his salutation briefly before taking my seat.

A minute or so later, he beckoned me to come over. He looked like a bit of a nutter, had a mate with him and the two girls sitting at his table looked perfectly mortified with embarrassment. I crossed over and bade all a good evening.

"You," he informed me, struggling a little to focus his eyes, "look exactly like one of our mates."

Ah, so...

He went on to inform me that said mate was a real lunatic, always starting trouble in boozers. I briefly looked around the crowded room.

"So," I said, "he's more than likely got a few enemies in this place."

"Beyond doubt," said the friend of my dangerous doppelganger.

"And it's quite possible that someone's going to mistake me for him and break a bottle over the back of my head?"

"Wouldn't surprise me in the least," he pronounced. None of his companions could look me in the face.

"Rightio, I'll finish my pint and I'll be off over the Cottage." I said, more than a little amused. I then trooped back over to my table and stayed there getting drunk until closing time.

Happily, I had neither my identity mistaken, nor the back of my head bottled.

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