As the world knows now, at a comic-con in Chicago, Tom and Harry took to the floor disguised behind Thanos masks to avoid the obvious commotion if he appeared au natural. A little boy stopped them and asked if he could be photographed with the two Thanos’s (I am unsure of the plural) after which Tom pulled off his mask and gave it to the little lad to his obvious delight.
There are many upsides of fame but getting recognised is a definite cost.
An odd thing in my life is being recognised by people – without knowing why – as in, not knowing who I actually am.
I have come to recognise a certain look on people’s faces when they encounter me; a mixture of excitement but mostly confusion.
…that little guy, I recognise him. I know that guy, where do I know that guy from?
Nowadays, if people actually approach me then I just come straight out with it – you’ve seen me on telly – or more likely, you’ve seen me doing a gig (as its been so long since I have been on the box)…
But the other day – going up an escalator in the underground, (subway, metro, tube…) ahead of me on an adjacent escalator and also ascending is a man who is looking down at me with a look that says I’ve been rumbled.
This is a little awkward because what do I do, wave? But as we ascend, things get even more awkward.
“Hello Dominic,” he calls down to me.
As you can imagine, this changes things. This guy genuinely knows who I am.
“Haven’t seen you since we were at school…”
And so the steaks rise again – but I am slightly irked now because I can’t be expected to recall everyone who was at my school and especially since I have this guy as at least 5 years older than me. Maybe even more.
Maybe sensing my confusion (panic), he calls down to me…
“We sat next to each other in class…”
And with this, I am now indeed panicking and thinking hard. Studying his face and searching through my dusty memory bank for any recollections of this guy before I reach street level and no doubt, he is waiting for me.
My memory is not good. Generally speaking, it serves me very badly and rarely does it ever come through and particularly so in a crisis. Names are my weakness and so too are faces it seems.
But I am delighted to say that on this occasion my hard drive did come through and by the time I reached the summit at Bank Station – I had a name – which I will not reveal, since I have been so rude about how cruel the years have been to him.
Perhaps he just has a more stressful job than mine – although as a stand-up comedian, this would mean that he must be a bomb disposal expert.
But I was pleased to see him. This was a guy I liked and admired. In fact, at school he had achieved legendary status by snaring himself a girlfriend when the odds were so stacked against us.
Ours was an all-boys school with girls being admitted in to the sixth form for the first time when we were 16/17 – and this guy trumped all the horny wannabes in the year above – by coupling up with a girl a year older than us and who had the whole school transfixed.
What a result.
And maybe this rich vein of form with the ladies continued for him – which might explain much better why he looks so much older than me.
The lucky sod!