There is a story that goes the rounds in various versions, but the one I like best is about the area I live in. The people involved could have known each other, but I have no direct evidence that they did. It goes like this:
- There was a pub down by the river in Kingston where members of the acting profession used to gather. A member of the public (hereinafter referred to as "the motp") went up to a table where a number of people were enjoying a quiet drink together and addressed one of them:
- "You're him, aren't you? You're in that thing we watch, aren't you? Now, what's your name? No, don't tell me. I'm sure I know it."
- After an embarrassingly lengthy period of fruitless dithering, the motp gave up and asked the familiar actor to identify himself.
- "Well, actually, my name is Allan Cuthbertson." The Anglo-Australian actor Allan Cuthbertson did live in Surbiton, which is next door to Kingston, so he may well have used that pub.
- However, the motp was not convinced.
- "No, you're not Allan Cuthbertson. You don't look anything like him."
- "Well, I can assure you that that is my name."
- Now, I suspect the motp was confusing Allan Cuthbertson with the Scottish actor Iain Cuthbertson, who was also familiar to television audiences at that time. But the motp persisted:
- "If you're Allan Cuthbertson, then I'm James Bond."
- Whereupon one of the other people who had been sitting quietly, patiently enduring this intrusion, looked up and said,
- "No, you're not. I am."
- The motp had failed to recognize Sean Connery.
I cannot attest to the accuracy of this story, but I suspect it is the sort of thing that happens to celebrities. Incidentally, I once saw Allan Cuthbertson walking along in Surbiton near where Waitrose now is. I made a point of not appearing to notice him.