I MUST HAVE THE MOST GENERIC HEAD OF ALL TIME!!!
Here’s a question for you… Have you ever taken a good look at your own melon (napper, head etc) and thought …I wonder if there is anyone on this planet who looks like me… or wants too?
It’s happened to me at least four times I know of. Now I’m not willing to say the word doppelganger… Mainly because I don’t speak German… and there may have been a bit of alcohol involved also… well actually in every occasion there was alcohol involved.
I was an apprentice in Bo-Ness in Scotland after work we had to wait for the bus back to Glasgow and naturally we inclined ourselves to a libation at the nearest watering hole….This was the first time I was mistaken for another…. I remember it very well for the fact that I was knocked on my …dare I say it… pert … bahooky, by an unnamed individual who thought I was a local lad who’d hit on his sister, mother, uncle or brother …(it was quite difficult to ascertain through the strong east coast accent what or who this individual had offended… Davie being his name, I believe) …Of course this caused a slight bit of tension in the pub full of Glasgow lads and the locals. By the time I’d recovered from the king hit (we call them coward punches in Oz.) There were a few head butts thrown around and a wee (stramash) hand bags at ten paces. An apology and a beer inserted in my hand, a pat on my back and a, hurry up, the bus is waiting.
Now I would’ve liked to think that this would be the last time I was mistaken for another… but oh no… not me… The next destination for an encounter was in Airdrie, or Motherwell, East of Glasgow, it was a quick beer whilst waiting for the lift home after work… very much the same scenario. I was in the pub, minding my own affair and crack, another blow to the back of the head…
This time I got up quickly and turned on my assailant who looked horrified at his lack of judgement. Clearly realizing he’d punched the wrong guy. His hands went up in placation and and explanation… “I thought ye were George… he owes me money.” Turning his face sideways and hands now by his side he offered me a free hit. “There ye go, hit me back …sorry it wiz my fault …on ye go.”… Obviously I couldn’t reply in kind from such a friendly assailant. So another beer inserted in my hand and quickly on the bus back home
Third time unlucky was in a pub in the ( Drum) … now I never, drank in Drumchapel as I’m not a local and have more than one tooth… I would have been quickly sussed out as a foreigner or something, it was in for a quicky and then down the road to the safe haven of Clydebank… There’s not much to tell … some drunk threw an air shot at me, stumbled and fell on the ground, cursing me for breaking his telly. … He got up and shuffled out the door, telling me he knew where I lived.
The last time was a very strange one indeed… I was in the (Rocks) in Sydney, and it was Paddy’s day/night. And in case you don’t know… Everyone is Irish on Paddy’s day. I was with my lovely wife and her cousin and friend.(who are both beautiful Irish girls. ) … after copious amounts of beer and good times I tried to get back indoors to order a few more drinks… good luck with that… however …the place was jumping and great time had by all and sundry.
It must have taken me twenty minutes to get back to my wife amongst the throng… we’d somehow misplaced the girls who were off to God knows where in Bondi… It was then… and only then… I was … I really don’t know how to put this…enthralled, might be the word. For there, amongst this multitude, was a taller version of me… a tidier, and dare I say it… a better looking version of me. And what’s more, he was chatting up my wife… Of course my small man syndrome kicked into high gear (alcohol propelled, of course.) But I was still a few steps away…
I’ve never said this before… and I doubt I’d say it again… but this was one Sauvé good looking rooster. Now I wouldn’t say I’d fancy him myself but, he was one handsome bugger, no doubt… My wife would talk to anyone… she’s naïve that way, Not realizing her own good looks…I stepped up quickly to the chatting pair, with the correct amount of affront and hinted aggression, only to find this bugger was also one hell of a nice guy… I think… after a couple of minutes… I had a kind of boy crush …. IN A VERY MANLY WAY… after finding out that he was from Paisley in Scotland, about five miles as the crow flies from my hometown Clydebank. A fellow Scot and sales traveler, so a great night was had by all and no punches thrown… a winner…God bless the Paddy’s
Looking back on these encounters only made me wonder about parentage and perhaps my dad,s…, HIGHLY UNLIKELY, secret good times… And here were we thinking he was down at the local, playing darts and domino’s…. In my sordid fantasy world it may have made him a wee bit cooler. But naw… could he have?…naw
Catch ya later.