I went to to what, when I was 15, I’d have called the cop shop, but since I’m no longer 15, I’ll call it the police station. I got sent up to a room where a bloke asked me the basic info about my attacker and sent me to sit in front of a computer. While I waited for the steam-powered computer to kick in, I admired the comforting posters of various Greek beaches. The computer spluttered into action and there were 862 white males in their twenties, around six feet tall, and of sporty build in front of me.
Is that him? He looks a bit like him… Not him, not him, not him, definitely not him, hmmm, maybe, and so on for about an hour and a half.
I looked at 862 men who weren’t, to the best of my knowledge, my attacker. But I looked at 862 men I dont want to run into on a dark night. 862 men who made me realise how different people look if they put on a pair of glasses. 862 men who left me thinking: people look… weird.
There was one bloke with boogly eyes and a thing on his head, a bit like the things that Usher or 50 Cent would wear under their baseball caps, but this guy’s was made of a sparkly white fishnet material. At that moment, I spluttered out a chuckle.
I did see some look-a-likes in there. Chelsea footballer Frank Lampard, Erasure singer Andy Bell, and fashion bloke Alexander McQueen. And on the train home, as I shiftily watched everyone, I’m sure I saw at least twenty of those chaps travelling in the same carriage as me.
It wasn’t a wasted journey, though. It was an interesting experience, if only for the moment when one of the policemen started half-humming half-singing along to Another Brick In The Wall on the radio.