No life
Making mischief
Toby Young
One of the miseries of getting older is that you get told you look like less and less glamourous celebrities. When I was 16 it was Kevin Bacon, the American movie star. Unfortunately he's aged so much better than me that when I tell people I used to look like him they burst out laughing. Then, when I was 26, it was Jimmy Som- merville, the lead singer of the Commu- nards. Admittedly, Sommerville was a short, balding homosexual, but at least he was a pop star. Now that I'm 36 the person I get compared to most often is William Hague.
I first became aware of this resemblance in 1995 when Alex Renton, then the fea- tures editor of the Evening Standard, sug- gested I go up to Wales and introduce myself to people as their newly appointed secretary of state. I didn't take this too seri- ously at the time — surely I was much more attractive than that? — but after he was elected leader of the Conservative party in 1997 the calls started coming in thick and fast. Now I can't leave my flat in Shepherd's Bush without someone pointing at me and shouting: "Ere, look — it's William 'Ague.'
For a long time I thought of this as a curse. It's certainly become a tedious run- ning joke with my girlfriend. Whenever Hague's on the telly she starts fanning her- self with her hand, pretending she's all hot and bothered, knowing full well that he's not exactly considered a sex symbol. Wasn't he compared to a foetus once? However, since meeting Gordon Brown last April, I've begun to change my mind. The Chan- cellor asked me if I'd be willing to work for the Labour party during the next general election campaign as an official Hague look-alike, touring marginal constituencies and spouting right-wing gobbledygook. 'It would be very funny,' he said, chortling to himself.
He was joking — I think — but it got me thinking. The potential for mischief as a Hague look-alike is huge. I could swan past the policemen outside the House of Com- mons, then point to the real Leader of the Opposition and demand that the impostor be thrown out. I could then take up his position on the Opposition front bench and announce that the Conservative party had decided to legalise cannabis and lower the homosexual age of consent to 12. I could turn up at Buckingham Palace and demand an emergency meeting with the Queen. I could tip off the News of the World, then go to Stringfellow's and hire a coven of lap- dancers to entertain me. I might even be able to pick up some advertising work — endorsing Hague whisky, for instance.
As for the sexual opportunities, in the words of Henry Kissinger, 'Power is the best aphrodisiac.' Okay, he's not the prime minister — yet — but within his party he's a figure of considerable authority. At the next Tory party conference I imagine there'll be quite a few blue-rinse, home- counties matrons who'll be eager to please their leader in any way they can. Maybe even a few Guardian hackettes wanting to indulge their notorious appetite for deviant sex. Failing that, I'm told there's a brothel in Las Vegas where people will pay good money to sleep with celebrity look-alikes. If my career in journalism doesn't work out, that strikes me as a pretty attractive alter- native and, let's be honest, not all that different.
Less attractive, though by no means out of the question, is the work I could get as a strip-o-gram. Perhaps I could do a double- act with the Baroness Thatcher look-alike, though I don't suppose it would be very erotic. Nevertheless, it might become something of a cult act in young socialist circles, if they still exist. I believe the pro- ducers of porno movies are always looking for celebrity look-alikes to star in them. I'd like these people to know that at the right price I'm available for work. Admittedly, I can't do a very good Yorkshire accent, but I'm told that the voices of the actors in these films are often dubbed.
Regrettably, I've never actually met my doppelganger. I imagine the experience would be a lot more disturbing for him than for me. After all, I already know of his existence but he doesn't know of mine. If! ever do see him at a party, my plan is to go up to him and say, 'Don't make this hard on yourself, Mr Hague. You're being replaced. On the planet I come from death by vaporisation is considered a luxury.'
'I think you've had too many goblets of fire, Master Potter.'
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