The police officer looks like a young Ray Winstone and he might turn bad-cop if you don\u2019t answer.
\n \u201cName?\u201d he repeats.
\n \u201cI\u2019m not who you think I am,\u201d you say, leaning in towards the twin-spool tape recorder.
\n Ray raises an eyebrow. \u201cWho aren\u2019t you?\u201d
\n \u201cDanny Mann. I just look like him.\u201d
\n \u201cThat\u2019s bullshit, Danny.\u201d
\n \u201cI\u2019m a look-alike.\u201d
\nAs Ray stands the plastic chair scrapes against the tile floor. \u201cWhat kind of idiot do you take me for? That nose? Those ears?\u201d<\/p>\n
#<\/p>\n
The similarity is uncanny. Two ugly bastards. Both sets of jug ears are natural, but the kinked noses result from separate accidents. Yours happened on a Saturday morning when you were seven. Your friend had thrown a Frisbee up into a tree. His name has slipped your mind, but he looked like a miniature Tom Hanks. As you were nimble you had no trouble climbing the tree, but with the Frisbee only inches from your reach you stepped on a branch that wasn\u2019t as strong as it looked. It snapped and you followed it down, shattering your pelvis on impact as well as bending your nose out of shape. The doctors were so concerned about whether you\u2019d walk again that the nose never got re-set and you were left with it smeared across your face.<\/p>\n
#<\/p>\n
You look at the microphone. \u201cI can\u2019t even kick a ball properly,\u201d you say. \u201cI\u2019ll prove it.\u201d
\n \u201cYour face is all the proof I need.\u201d
\n \u201cHonestly, I\u2019m not Danny.\u201d
\n \u201cSo\u201d says Ray with a smug look on his face, \u201chow come you look so alike?\u201d <\/p>\n
#<\/p>\n
You\u2019d wondered too, and it wasn\u2019t hard to find the details. Danny had been in the public eye for little over a year, but there were several unauthorised biographies available, books which now filled bargain bins nationwide. He was playing football with friends. When sprinting to meet a cross, he ran into the goalpost. He got up and played on. It was on 18th June 1996 and Danny refused to be taken to hospital because he wanted to see England play the Netherlands on TV. He watched the game with tissue stuffed up his nose. It was the day after your accident, and you watched the same game from a hospital bed through a morphine haze, thinking it was some kind of wonderful dream when Sheringham made it 4-0. You were still in hospital when the Germans knocked England out on penalties eight days later. You\u2019d had another unsuccessful operation and were in agony as German captain, Andreas M\u00f6ller, stood with his hands on his hips celebrating their victory. You fell out of love with football. It was forever tarnished with the pain of that summer.<\/p>\n
#<\/p>\n
Seventeen years later football returned to your life. Two weeks before the FA Cup Final, Wigan\u2019s top scorer dropped a jar of pickles on his right foot and broke a metatarsal. You were in Mothercare buying a cot. The state of a striker\u2019s foot had no immediate impact on your life, but it gave Danny Mann a spot in the FA Cup Final squad.
\n You didn\u2019t watch the match. When the game kicked off you were telling Amy how grateful you were for the way she helped you through the trauma of your parents\u2019 death. You told her you wanted to be together forever when Manchester City scored. When Danny Mann was brought on as a substitute you were asking her what was wrong. As Wigan equalized with a header from a Danny Mann cross you were listening to Amy say that she didn\u2019t love you. You sunk to the floor when the words \u201cIt\u2019s not your baby,\u201d hit you while Danny Mann chipped the ball over the goalkeeper. The sound of the door slamming was ringing in your ears as Danny Mann celebrated his goal. He ran to the opposite end of the pitch, slid onto his knees, pointed into the crowd at his girlfriend, Lauren, and lifted his shirt, revealing a t-shirt with \u2018Marry Me\u2019 written on it. He had to wait for the final whistle for a reply, and as Lauren said yes you were sobbing on your bedroom floor.
\n You woke in the morning, still in your clothes, your right arm dead from having slept on it. You needed a cigarette. While cutting through the park towards the shop a football rolled into your path. Some kids asked for their ball back, then gasped when you kicked it to them. They huddled and after a moment an elected spokesperson emerged from the group and said, \u201cAren\u2019t you Danny Mann?\u201d
\n That was the beginning. Everywhere you went, people stared. You didn\u2019t understand until you picked up a paper. You looked at pictures online to study each of his features in comparison with your own. Within a couple of days you realised there was no getting away from it so every time you felt down you would go to a park or a shopping centre and wait for the open mouths and pointing fingers. The buzz of seeing faces light up when they thought you were Danny let you forget about Amy. If you spoke to anyone for long they realised the truth, but often suggested joining a look-alike agency. What did you have to lose? You found one online, filled in your details, attached a couple of pictures to the web-form and hit send. Within forty-eight hours you were travelling to meet the head of the agency.
\n A short woman with blonde curly hair and thick-rimmed glasses was waiting for you.
\n \u201cYou must be our Danny Mann,\u201d she said as she led you inside. \u201cWe spoke on the phone. I\u2019m Jane McTavish, but you can call me Sue.\u201d
\n After seeing your expression she felt the need to explain. \u201cHi-De-Hi?\u201d she said and picked up a framed picture of herself dressed as a cleaning lady. \u201cThat\u2019s me with Sue Pollard.\u201d
\n \u201cI don\u2019t know her, sorry,\u201d you said as she pointed to a chair and sat down opposite you.
\n She stared at you. \u201cGood,\u201d she said. \u201cBut the eye colour is slightly off.\u201d<\/p>\n
#<\/p>\n
That\u2019s it. The eyes.
\n \u201cMy eyes are a different colour to Danny\u2019s,\u201d you say.
\n Ray snarls. He looks at you and then at a photograph of Danny on the table. \u201cNo they\u2019re not.\u201d
\n \u201cIt\u2019s only slight \u2013 mine are jade green; his are amazon.\u201d
\n Ray sucks air through his teeth. \u201cEnough,\u201d he says and leans in close. \u201cYou can\u2019t keep this up forever.\u201d His breath is hot against your face. \u201cIf you\u2019re not Danny, prove it.\u201d
\n You stare blankly at him. He storms out and slams the door behind him. You could give him Jane\u2019s number. She\u2019d warned you about taking it too seriously. She\u2019d told you about her Britney Spears. \u201cPoor girl copied everything. Shaved her head. Started flashing her foo-foo at clients.\u201d She looked down at the floor. \u201cShe\u2019s in an entirely different line of work now. Very sad.\u201d
\n You promised it wouldn\u2019t go to your head.
\n After several bookings in a couple of weeks, interest waned in Danny and Lauren. It looked as if you were going to have to return to reality. Amy ignored your calls. You only wanted to know if she wanted the cot or the clothes you\u2019d bought. You left a message with one of her friends. \u201cShe doesn\u2019t want any of your shit,\u201d was posted on your Facebook. Someone you considered a friend replied with \u2018LOL\u2019, and you deleted your profile.
\n You opened the door to the spare room for the first time in weeks and put your foot through the side of the cot, splintering the slats into pieces. You dragged it into the courtyard, scraping your knuckles on every doorframe on the way. You gathered up all of the clothes you\u2019d bought, grabbed a can of lighter fluid and went back outside. The lighter fluid made your eyes water as you squirted it over the clothes. You sparked up your lighter and set alight one of the baby-grows. The dinosaur print melted away, and then the wood took, and the flames danced away with your dreams.
\n The neighbours complained. Someone called the fire brigade. They doused your bonfire, gave you a lecture, and left you sobbing over charred and soggy bits of wood and tiny remnants of fabric.
\n Danny Mann started the next season on fire. Four goals in the opening three games of the season earned him a place in the England squad for the World Cup qualifiers. Jane was calling regularly to keep you busy. As the end of August approached, transfer talk was linking Danny with Tottenham. Arsenal\u2019s fans were demanding they sign a creative player and his name was thrown around. Jane called when a Camden sports-bar, A Pint of Two Halves, wanted you as celebrity barman. You spent the afternoon catching up on the world of Danny Mann.
\n The bar manager looked like Keith Chegwin with a lazy eye and deeper voice. He tossed you a Tottenham shirt.
\n \u201cI think you\u2019d look good in this,\u201d he said and winked with his good eye.
\n Throughout your shift, customers chatted about Danny and how he\u2019d be perfect at their club.
\n \u201cSo where do you think he should go?\u201d you asked one chap who looked like a young Roger Moore.
\n \u201cWhoever offers him the most money, am I right?\u201d he said.
\n \u201cHe\u2019ll go to Arsenal,\u201d chipped in a Will Smith with an excessive over-bite. \u201cBigger club, suit his ego.\u201d
\n \u201cI don\u2019t want him there,\u201d slurred an older man.
\n \u201cWhy not? He\u2019d be perfect.\u201d
\n \u201cTemperament,\u201d said the old timer, who looked like a weather-beaten Anthony Hopkins.
\n \u201cThere\u2019s nothing wrong with his temperament. You haven\u2019t got a clue, mate,\u201d said Will Smith.
\n \u201cMark my words.\u201d His head shook uncontrollably. \u201cOne of these days that boy\u2019s gonna blow his top and get himself sent off. Cost his team a game.\u201d He looked directly at you. \u201cNow tell me I\u2019m wrong.\u201d
\n News broke the next day that Danny Mann had been released from the England squad to have talks with Tottenham. Later you read that Arsenal had matched the bid. Jane called with more bookings, another corporate gig and more bar-work on the night of the England qualifier. You decided that if Danny Mann was on the move you were too. You put your house on the market and started looking for property. It was time to start over.<\/p>\n
#<\/p>\n
Ray returns to the room with a mug of coffee. It sloshes onto the table as he thumps it down. He raises an eyebrow. \u201cWell?\u201d
\n \u201cCall Jane McTavish, from Famous Faces. She knows me.\u201d
\n Ray takes a notepad and pen from his inside pocket and pushes it your way. You scrawl down her number and he leaves again. Jane will remember you. How could she forget after what happened with Lauren?<\/p>\n
#<\/p>\n
Jane had added a Lauren look-alike to what she called, \u201cthe Famous Faces roster of stars.\u201d She said you\u2019d make more money as a pair. Your Lauren was prettier than the real thing. Her nose turned up slightly at the end and she didn\u2019t have that little gap between her two front teeth so she had to keep her mouth closed during photo-shoots. In every other way she was identical. #<\/p>\n \u201cNo answer,\u201d says Ray as he re-enters the room. #<\/p>\n Danny had exceeded his fifteen minutes, but it didn\u2019t look like it would be ending soon. He made the World Cup squad, so the wedding had to be postponed until August. This would have been a good time if you were still on Jane\u2019s books. No one would mistake you for Danny if they knew he was away with England, but then you realised, you didn\u2019t need Jane. You headed into A Pint of Two Halves. Keith Chegwin looked puzzled until you offered your services as a barman throughout the tournament. Keith jumped at the chance. The customers knew you weren\u2019t Danny, but they\u2019d still speak to you as if you were an expert, and they made you feel like someone worth being. #<\/p>\n There\u2019s a tap on the door. Ray goes out into the corridor and you start to wonder about Ruby. Ray returns but he doesn\u2019t look so much like Ray Winstone anymore. He stops the tape. The police officer looks like a young Ray Winstone and he might turn bad-cop if you don\u2019t answer. \u201cName?\u201d he repeats. \u201cI\u2019m not who you think I am,\u201d you say, leaning in towards the twin-spool tape recorder. Ray raises an eyebrow. \u201cWho aren\u2019t you?\u201d \u201cDanny Mann. I just look like him.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s bullshit, Danny.\u201d \u201cI\u2019m […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":169,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[340,338],"tags":[342],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n
\n You were put in half a dozen suits and Lauren in a dozen wedding dresses as Hello Magazine<\/em> predicted the look of the forthcoming wedding; Heat<\/em> had you both scantily clad to promote a new range of his and hers undergarments; and OK!<\/em> shot a photo-story titled, \u201cDanno and Lol \u2013 How They Met\u201d. And no, those nicknames did not catch on.
\n Your big day was a mockery of Danny and Lauren\u2019s. Hello Magazine<\/em> had the official rights to the wedding day pictures, but Heat<\/em> wanted to beat them to it. They\u2019d tapped-up wedding planners, florists and venues to find out everything. They were going to stage their own version of the celebrity wedding and run the pictures a week early. The photographer snapped a fake Wayne Rooney and a fake Joe Hart, who both looked on with forced smiles. You were pictured with the fake best man and fake registrar as the photographer asked you to look nervous, then happy, then happier still.
\n When your Lauren started walking down the aisle littered with rose petals your smile was genuine. She was stunning. Your palms started to clam up. Then the photographer pulled you out of the way to get a better shot of Lauren. After that she was dashed to the front and the falconer was called in. The best man held out a red velvet cushion. The falconer whistled and from the beams a white owl swooped down and placed the wedding rings on the cushion.
\n \u201cAgain\u201d cried the photograph. \u201cCould you make him swoop down lower so I can get a better angle?\u201d
\n After five more takes the photographer was happy. Your Lauren fidgeted and complained that the fake dress was itchy.
\n \u201cWon\u2019t be too much longer, love,\u201d said the photographer. \u201cNow, can we have the kiss?\u201d
\n You didn\u2019t think. Even with all of the re-shoots you were still thinking that this was your big day. This was real. The kiss was real. You put your arms around your Lauren, closed your eyes and kissed her. You kissed her until she broke away and slapped your face.
\n \u201cI don\u2019t blame you for giving it a go, mate,\u201d said the photographer with a wink.
\n She wasn\u2019t your Lauren. This wasn\u2019t your day. None of this was real. Arsene Wenger was too short. Joe Hart\u2019s hair was too dark. Wayne Rooney was too fat.
\n Fake Lauren had stormed off. You had a few more photos to do, but she refused. You did some with the best man and some of the fake footballers, but the photographer got sick of trying to force you to smile. Lauren was eventually persuaded to have some photographs taken with the bridesmaids, but she made it clear that you wouldn\u2019t be allowed anywhere near.
\n When you got home there was a message from Jane. She said she was taking you off her books for a while as you needed some downtime. She said that you were lucky that Lauren didn\u2019t want to take it any further. You didn\u2019t feel lucky.
\n With no bookings you started hanging around in a football kit, desperate for someone to notice you. People didn\u2019t believe in a Danny that wanted to attract attention though so you looked through your scrapbook and studied the types of clothes he wore, the baseball caps and sunglasses. You headed to Camden Market in search of the most convincing knock-offs and once kitted out you kept your head hidden beneath your cap and your eyes behind sunglasses and let the nose and ears do their job. <\/p>\n
\n \u201cHas anyone ever said that you look like Ray Winstone?\u201d you say.
\n \u201cYou taking the piss?\u201d says Ray.
\n \u201cYou do.\u201d
\n \u201cWhat\u2019s your point?\u201d
\n \u201cDon\u2019t you wonder \u2013 how come he<\/em> got to be famous?\u201d
\n For the first time he looks at you as if you\u2019re telling the truth. \u201cWe can\u2019t all be superstars,\u201d he says, \u201cand I\u2019ve got your agent\u2019s number if I want my fifteen minutes of fame.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n The press were saying that England could better any team in Europe on their day and were odds-on to not only win the tournament, but to do so in style. A draw in the first game did nothing to halt the wave of excitement. Danny Mann had set up England\u2019s goal with a clever through-ball and they would have won but for a bad refereeing decision costing them a late goal. It got better in the second game, an easy 2-0 win. Danny scored the second goal. The whole bar erupted into noise and a crowd dashed towards you. Keith had a promotion, if Danny Mann scored, pints were half-price. The place was rocking for the rest of the night. Everyone was asking you if England could really do it, and you promised that they could.
\n A draw would be good enough to put England into the second round in their final game. England went a goal down early in the second half. The mood in the bar had soured and people were giving you dirty looks as Danny Mann misplaced a number of passes. His frustration boiled over with a wild challenge that earned him a yellow card. The England manager had his substitutes warming up. Knowing he might not have long left in the tournament Danny Mann attempted a ridiculous lob from the centre circle. The keeper clambered back towards the goal, only to see the ball sail over his head. Danny was denied a wonder-goal when the ball crashed back off the crossbar. Luckily for England, Wayne Rooney was quickest to react and he smashed the rebound into the net to level the game. The manager still took Danny off. He kicked a water bottle on his way to take his seat on the bench and looked on nervously as England held on to go through to the next round.
\n Despite letting in an early goal England managed to win their second-round match thanks to two strikes from Danny Mann. The patrons of A Pint of Two Halves hauled you over the bar at the final whistle. They raised you up above their heads and whooped and cheered. Keith gave you the rest of the night off. You had your back-slapped, your head-rubbed and your hand-shook by a crowd more than willing to fill you with drink and you woke in the morning with aching cheeks from excess laughter and a pounding headache that was more than worth it.
\n Germany were waiting in the quarter-finals, but the press insisted this was England\u2019s time. From the first half it appeared that they were right as England raced into a two-nil lead with Danny Mann setting up both goals. Then a German attacker made Danny Mann look daft by putting the ball between his legs and Danny pulled him back to give away a free-kick. The goalkeeper had no chance to stop the ball curling in to the top corner. At 2-1, England were still favourites. Danny Mann seemed certain to score when the ball was headed down to him in the box until he was barged off the ball. The England players screamed for a penalty, but the referee waved play-on. Danny punched the ground. As the German team raced towards the England goal Danny Mann got up and shoved an opponent in the back. The referee didn\u2019t see it. The manager sent his substitutes to warm up. Germany were coming forward again looking to equalise. When Danny was tricked again by a clever flick of the ball he turned and swept away the legs of his opponent who threw himself to the floor, rolled three times, clutched his ankle, and screamed in agony. The referee pulled out his red card. Danny left the pitch to a chorus of boos and trudged down the tunnel.
\n You watched the rest of the match in shock. The bar was near silent. The English defence repelled attack after attack, but eventually they folded. The keeper dropped a shot in the final minute and Germany equalized with a tap-in. The rest was inevitable. England held on through extra-time and then lost the penalty shootout.
\n Someone dropped a pint glass. It may have been an accident, but it started a trend. Then the crowd turned their attention to you.
\n \u201cYou stupid bastard,\u201d said a middle-aged bloke in a stained and yellowing England shirt. A pint glass crashed into one of the mirrored panels, showering glass onto you. You ducked behind the bar as a barrage of bottles and glasses hurtled towards you. A gallon bottle of vodka erupted above you when hit by a projectile, soaking you. You edged towards the backroom with glass pushing into your palms as you crawled forward until you made it to safety. Keith had already called the police and was clutching a baseball bat in case anyone else decided to venture in. The rest of the bar-staff had left by the rear exit.
\n \u201cYou\u2019d better wait here,\u201d said Keith as you headed for the door. \u201cUnless you\u2019ve got a bag you can put over your head.\u201d
\n The rabble grew rowdier. Keith\u2019s face sunk with each crunch, each smash, each cheer, until sirens brought a momentary hush. You listened to the crowd flood onto the streets.
\n After some time, a team of police officers entered and called out. Keith went to meet them but was stopped by the extent of the devastation. You followed him and smashed glass crunched beneath your feet. Seats had been slashed. Sporting paraphernalia had been torn from the walls. When Keith saw that his signed Gary Lineker shirt had been taken from its casing and was left in shreds on the floor he wept. He looked at you, eyes full of hate and shook his head before hiding his face behind what was left of the shirt. One of the police officers turned his head from Keith to you and did a double-take. You were used to that, but the sound of air being sucked between teeth was new.
\n You turned away and caught sight of your face, distorted in the cracked mirror. While the police officer was taking a statement from Keith, who had managed to let go of the Lineker shirt, you picked up a broom from the backroom.
\n \u201cLeave it,\u201d said Keith.
\n \u201cWe should start clearing up,\u201d you said.
\n \u201cJust go!\u201d
\n \u201cLet me help sort this out.\u201d
\n \u201cNo!\u201d cried Keith, \u201cI can\u2019t bear to look at you.\u201d
\n The broom fell from your hand.
\n \u201cGet out!\u201d
\n You shuffled towards the exit until an arm tugged on your shoulder.
\n \u201cI can\u2019t let you out there looking like that,\u201d said another police officer. \u201cWait in the backroom. I\u2019ll give you a lift when we\u2019re done.\u201d
\n As you crashed out on your sofa you thought back to 1998 and the hanging effigies of David Beckham after he was sent off in a World Cup match. The nation had forgiven him. As you drifted off to sleep on the sofa while still in your alcohol-soaked clothes and with glass in your hair you comforted yourself with the thought that Jane had three Beckhams on her books.
\n In the morning you switched on the TV to see sports reporter Brendan McWhinnie standing in an airport lounge with a black-eye.
\n \u201cSo he attacked you for no reason?\u201d asked the presenter from the BBC Breakfast couch.
\n \u201cThat\u2019s right. I asked how it felt to know that he\u2019d let the whole country down and he jumped over the barrier and struck me.\u201d
\n \u201cAnd he had to be physically dragged off you?\u201d
\n \u201cYes, two of the other squad members pulled him away before the airport police arrived and took him.\u201d
\n \u201cThank you Brendan.\u201d
\n \u201cTo recap for those joining us late,\u201d said the co-presenter, \u201cEngland footballer Danny Mann has been arrested for assault this morning after striking our reporter Brendan McWhinnie as the England team were making their way home following their elimination from the World Cup last night.\u201d
\n You needed to get some air. Outside, you waited alone by the bus stop. The driver gasped as you got on. Bus chatter was concentrated on Danny Mann. A small boy pointed at you and whispered to his mother. She held him closer.
\n You got off at the nearest shopping area. Life had been sucked from the place. There was no wind, almost no air at all. The England flags that had fluttered so proudly the previous day now hung limp. Heads hung low until you passed, and then eyes would trail you. You thought you heard hissing.
\n You took refuge in a newsagent\u2019s. You hid behind a copy of OK!<\/em> in order to avoid a confrontation from the feral young men standing by the fridges and stumbled upon an article, \u2018The Curse of the August Wedding\u2019. It was a warning to Danny and Lauren, listing celebrity couples who had married in August and subsequently divorced. There were pictures of Danny and Lauren arguing. You knew your Lauren, you couldn\u2019t mistake that nose, but Danny was all wrong. He had the hair and the complexion, maybe the mouth was close enough, but the most distinctive features, the wonky nose and the jug ears were absent. You felt sorry for him.
\n \u201cThis ain\u2019t a library, mate,\u201d came a shout from behind the counter. You looked over your shoulder at the shop-keeper. He looked like an unwashed Ricky Gervais.
\n \u201cYou gonna buy that?\u201d he said, his face screwed up, weasel-like.
\n You stared at Ricky and scrunched the magazine into a ball then drop-kicked it into the greetings cards. As Ricky flapped his arms, you stomped towards the exit and knocked a display of Wispas to the floor.
\n As you wandered through the deflated streets of London, people still stared but now they were devoid of excitement. No one came trotting up to you, scrabbling for a pen and paper. It was a shame you carried on your face. It stirred memories of defeat and wrong-doing. People tutted and shook their heads. Your face had been tarnished and every harsh stare hit you like a punch in the nose.
\n Once you got home you took a pair of scissors into the bathroom and looked at the face in the mirror. You wanted to smash it. The quiff had been fashioned just like Danny\u2019s and remained solid with gel as it hit the basin. Handful after handful of hair fell to the floor as you got busy with the scissors. When it was short enough, you grabbed a razor. You dragged the blade through what was left of your hair, ignoring the burning in your scalp. You turned on the shower and climbed under the hot water hoping it would wash away the stink of last night. Then you turned up the temperature to see what else you could wash away.
\n When you got out of the shower you wiped the condensation from the mirror. Your skin was pink and steaming and it was agony to wrap yourself in a rough towel, but you felt clean. You knew your ears would always stick out like Danny\u2019s and the nose would always be bent like his, but you were no longer identical. You realised that all you had to do was stop trying to look the same. Shrug your shoulders when people mentioned your doppelganger. All you had to do was let go; the difficulty was going to be finding something else in your life worth holding on to.
\n You switched on the TV that evening to find that he\u2019d been released and was allowed to travel home. The press were waiting at the airport from a safe distance behind the barriers. It was as if a serial-killer was arriving at Heathrow, not a footballer guilty of assault and what the tabloids consider a greater crime, letting the nation down. They used terms like \u201canimal\u201d and \u201cthug\u201d.
\n As Danny emerged through the arrival gate, there was a roar of disapproval from the gathered crowd. You looked at the dark circles around his eyes, certain that yours were the same. Sympathy swelled within you, and before the public lynching commenced, you switched off.
\n Your sympathy disappeared when you put on the TV the next morning to see another battered face. With her lips split and swollen and one eye forced closed, you almost didn\u2019t recognise her.
\n \u201cThe whereabouts of Danny Mann are currently unknown,\u201d said the newsreader. \u201cNeighbours reported that they heard arguing in the early hours of the morning, shortly after Danny arrived home, and later heard a car speed off.\u201d
\n You switched off the TV and held your head in your hands. You closed your eyes but Lauren\u2019s battered face was burnt onto your retinas. You screamed. You picked up the TV remote and hurled it at the wall. Nothing could make the picture fade. From the fridge you grabbed a bottle of lager and pulled the top off with your teeth, slicing your lip in the process. You didn\u2019t taste the blood that mingled with the beer. You kicked a cupboard door and thumped the worktop before pulling on a pair of shoes and stomping out.
\n You walked down countless streets and through parks, hoping that someone would say something and give you a chance to react. Maybe it was the haircut, or maybe it was the madness in your eyes, but no one gave you the \u2018aren\u2019t you Danny Mann\u2019 look. You walked until your feet throbbed. Designer shoes were not made for distance. You perched on a bench, tore them off, and chucked them into the bin. People caught your eye as they wandered past. It was if the creations of Madame Tussauds had broken free and were wandering around London. There were a couple of girls who could have been supermarket-brand versions of Bond girls. There was a chubby Daniel Radcliffe. A miniature Chris Evans was walking his dog. Sitting on the bench opposite was a Kim Kardashian with a splash of grey hair. She was reading a copy of Heat<\/em> which promised to reveal the beauty secrets of whichever celebrity clothes-horse was icon of the week.
\n You couldn\u2019t sit and watch the conveyor belt of clones any longer. With the hard ground piercing your shoeless feet, you walked on and looked down at the ground to avoid the mass of identikit faces. You glanced up when you reached the road for long enough to locate the nearest pub.
\n The Merchant and Branch was poorly lit and illuminated only by a TV behind the bar. It was perfect. It was the kind of place where it was not only acceptable to come in and drink alone, but expected. Ordering at the bar was done via grunts and nods.
\n Hours passed and you\u2019d built a barricade of pint glasses. One was half full. You downed it and nodded for another. As the barman delivered it with a grunt, a familiar face stumbled through the door. Her hair was shorter and she was wearing more make-up than usual. The short skirt and the low-cut top made you realise what was so different about her. She wasn\u2019t pregnant anymore. It had been over a year since you\u2019d last seen Amy.
\n You shuddered as a wave of revulsion passed through your body. She stumbled and her hands slapped down on the bar saving her from an embarrassing fall and getting the barman\u2019s attention at the same time. She slurred her order for a cheap bottle of white wine.
\n You were hiding behind your pint glass. Amy was distorted. She turned her head to look down the bar. A bulbous eye stared at you. You drained your glass and through the bottom of it you could see only a mess of colour closing in.
\n \u201cSo this is where you\u2019ve been hiding,\u201d she said as she skulked towards you. She smiled in a way you would have once found seductive. You felt queasy.
\n \u201cHow come you left without saying goodbye to anyone?\u201d she asked. She took a tiny sip of her wine followed by a large gulp.
\n \u201cSo what\u2019s your address?\u201d said Amy. She poured herself another glass of wine then rummaged in her handbag for a pen.
\n Amy\u2019s friend pointed up at the television behind the bar. You looked up to see a face much like yours, now also sporting hair just like yours.
\n \u201cMate, could you turn that up?\u201d said one of the other drinkers to the barman.
\n \u201cDanny Mann was spotted on CCTV earlier today at Thurrock services. He was wearing a grey hoodie and has shaved his hair. He is wanted for questioning by police in connection with the assault…\u201d<\/em>
\n Amy was poised with a pen. \u201cYour address?\u201d she asked and leaned towards you. Her perfume was sickly.
\n \u201cWhy do you need my address?\u201d you asked. \u201cYou made it clear you were finished with me.\u201d
\n \u201cChild support,\u201d she said.
\n You saw yourself collapsed on the floor of your bedroom. Her words rang in your ears again.
\n \u201cYou said it wasn\u2019t my baby.\u201d
\n \u201cDNA test says it\u2019s not Tony\u2019s. Must be yours.\u201d
\n You stared into her eyes and rage swelled within you. The pint glass fell from your hand and exploded into shards upon impact with the floor. You thought about grabbing Amy around the neck and squeezing until something snapped. You thought of Danny Mann and Lauren\u2019s battered face. You thought about the pain Amy had made you suffer and the months you\u2019d lost with your child. Your temples throbbed. A scream wanted to escape from your brain. You took a deep breath and told yourself you weren\u2019t like Danny Mann.
\n \u201cIt\u2019s my baby?\u201d you said.
\n \u201cYeah,\u201d she said. \u201cRuby. She\u2019s got your ears.\u201d
\n Then the barman was between you. He grabbed the front of your shirt in one hand, tearing the cheap fabric. He tucked his phone back in his pocket with his other hand and said, \u201cYou gonna clean that up, or will I have to spread you about the floor too?\u201d
\n You held up your hands and muttered an apology. \u201cStay there,\u201d he said as he grabbed a broom from behind the bar. He shook his head at you and as he thrust the broom into your hands you couldn\u2019t help but think that his completely bald head and his wobbly cheeks made him look like a giant baby. He pointed at Amy and yelled, \u201cGet out\u201d.
\n As Amy traipsed towards the door you said. \u201cWhat colour are her eyes?\u201d
\n You were pretty sure she said green, but the bartender was yelling too loudly for you to be sure. You chased most of the glass into the corner while the barman stood over you. He tossed a dustpan to the floor and you swept the glass into it and shoved the broom back. As you headed towards the door, he grabbed you by the arm and said, \u201cYou ain\u2019t going nowhere, Danny\u201d.
\n \u201cI\u2019m not Danny,\u201d you said and through the doorway stepped a police officer that looked like Ray Winstone.
\n \u201cDanny Mann,\u201d he said, \u201cwould you mind accompanying us to the station?\u201d<\/p>\n
\n \u201cGuess who we\u2019ve found?\u201d he asks.
\n You shrug.
\n \u201cDanny Mann.\u201d
\nThe police officer returns your possessions and walks you to the exit. You blink as you emerge into the afternoon sun. You can\u2019t remember when you last listened to birdsong. It\u2019s interrupted by a siren and you watch the birds scatter until the police car pulls up with its blue lights flashing. A police officer climbs out and adjusts his hat before opening the rear-door. They were right; you do look like Danny Mann. The police officer leads him towards the entrance. Danny stops when he sees you. Confusion spreads over his face and as the police officer drags him away he says, \u201cWho are you?\u201d
\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"