Euro 2012 kicks off today. That’s brilliant news.

I thought I’d share with you today an excellent way to make dull matches more exciting. It’s called European Championship Drinking Game. You’re probably already familiar with the concept of drinking. This takes it up a notch.

European Championship Drinking Game (ECDG) and it’s older brother World Cup Drinking Game have been played for 14 years now, but since I have a young child, I fear my day’s of wiling away a Denmark v Czech Republic game in a drunken stupor are in the past. So it is with heavy heart that I pass it onto a younger, more alcoholic generation.

You can make it as complicated as you like but the basic set-up is as follows:

1. Write every player’s name in the two 23-man squads on pieces of paper, and put them in a hat (or saucepan, pint glass, urn, etc)
2. Each drinker draws four players each from the hat

Then, from kick off till full time, you drink whenever one of your players is mentioned, until the commentator mentions someone else.

It’s an exciting game that can turn in a second. Just when you think you’re getting an easy ride, substitutions can throw all your players onto the pitch. You’ll hang on Clive Tyldesley’s every work, begging him to mention someone else so you can take a break.

You can add whatever rules you like – if your player scores, you have to down your pint, if he gets sent off everyone else does – but it’s the commentary aspect that provides the most jeopardy.

Undoubtedly the highlight of ECDG is half-time on an ITV game when lines such as “So it’s half-time here thanks to a goal from Milan Baros, see you after the break” can send someone on a three and a half minute advert drinking binge that few will ever recover from.

Obviously this game isn’t suitable for children or alcoholics. For these social groups may I suggest replacing beer with thick McDonald’s milkshakes, which will allow you to still experience the dread of having to drink constantly for long periods of time, plus the heady rush of seeing your friend vomit after 33 minutes.

Can you think of any improvements to this age old institution? Also, let me know if you give this game a go. Links to photos/videos are particularly welcome. Oh, and drink responsibly. Happy Euro day!

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I’ve put this out on twitter in the past but I was just tidying my computer desktop and I found this photo. It’s a sign my wife found on a bin on the Isle of Sheppey (where I grew up). I thought I’d repost it today, as a special gift to the Queen to mark her Jubilee.

After how many incidents does one write such a sign? Was this a one off or the result of many years of doggy faeces pain? I imagine it must be an ongoing problem if you’re going to go to the trouble of semi-laminating it, and using two different pens to emphasise the opening lines.

I think what I like most about it is the way he over-explains what he’s going to do. Most people would have worked out what he had planned without the clarification “as I don’t have a dog”, but our hero leaves no confusion over what he plans to do. I also like his stated aim of delivering a bucket full of human excrement, a plan that will surely require him to spend at least a week with a slowly filling bucket of waste stinking out his house.

I salute you sir (or madam). I hope the dogs have stopped pooing there.

Oh, and happy Jubilee Queen.

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Gavin and I next to a ship that may or may not be HMS Victory

How was your April Fools day? Did you get fooled? Apart from my friend Phil’s fairly convincing “What do you think about Suarez handing in a transfer request?” I wasn’t really targeted. I don’t really try fooling people or practical joking anymore because I know, that at the age of 34, I have already peaked.

When I was a kid my best friend was called Gavin Phillips. He’s still called Gavin Phillips now actually. He was, and still is, one of the best and funniest people I have ever met. There’s a photo of us as kids to the right. Gavin is the one on the left. I’ll ignore my tracksuit, and the fact that whoever took this photo is arguably the worst photographer of all time, and continue with the story…

Gavin was always playing jokes on people. One memorable birthday he loosened the bottom of the salt dispenser in Happy Eater so when I used it, my entire meal was ruined. I think it made me cry. I would retaliate occasionally, taking advantage of his lack of attention at school to persuade him to give himself a shock on an electric fence for example, but Gavin had looser morals than me and during our childhood probably out pranked me.

This all changed on 26th February 2010.

At eighteen Gavin had moved to Northern Ireland with his family and I didn’t see him as much. We lost touch for a few years, got reconnected, and would see each other about once a year until in the summer of 2009 I got engaged.

“That’s great news mate, I’ll definitely come over for the wedding” he told me over instant messenger. “Are you doing anything special for it?”

I had a flash of inspiration. A moment of genius.

“Yes mate, it’s going to be fancy dress.”

“Brilliant, I’m coming as Chewbacca.”

It was as if the stars had aligned to make this work. Gavin knew a few people at the wedding, but none well enough for the truth to be exposed. He was staying at his brother’s house a few miles from the ceremony, so wouldn’t have a change of clothes with him. It was perfect.

On the invites I informed people that Gavin thought the event was fancy dress, and that people were not to tell him otherwise. For Gavin I got an invite specially printed confirming the dress code. This was a meticulously planned prank.

As we got closer to the date I was careful not to make too big a deal of it so as to avoid arousing suspicion. A few weeks beforehand, Gavin explained how he had bought a Chewbacca costume, before returning it.

“I sent it back because it cost me £300 and when you took the head off I just looked like a hairy man. I’m going to go as a pimp instead.”

Brilliant.

The morning of the wedding came and I was in the hotel bar as everyone arrived. Although it was all anyone had talked about for weeks before the big day, I’d kind of forgotten about Gavin’s outfit till he walked through the door. He didn’t disappoint.

Gavin's Fancy Dress Outfit

At first he didn’t realise. It may have been because I was in my kilt which isn’t a million miles from fancy dress. When he did clock on however, it was brilliant.

“Have you stitched me up?”

Gavin making polite conversation. He's the one in the middle.

Gavin called me a bastard for about fifteen minutes. He was gutted, not because he was dressed in a pimp suit at a wedding that he had travelled hundreds of miles to attend, but because I had got him. There was a grin of respect behind all the swearing and ranting. It had all been worth it.

He hit the bar hard (as you would in this situation) and had a brilliant time. Everyone was taking photos with him and buying him more beers. This culminated in him telling the mother of the bride that she had a “great rack” at around 11pm.

Two years have passed and I’m still waiting for Gavin to take his revenge. I know it will come one day, and it will be huge. Until then I must wait. His last words to me as he left the wedding were “Sleep with your eyes open Knox. I will have revenge.”

A photo from my wedding is now Gavin’s profile picture on Facebook. I’m sure that no matter what he says, he’s glad I got him. Because at the end of the day, that’s what life is all about isn’t it? Stories. If you can sit in a pub with others and have enough stories to hold a conversation, you’re winning at life. And Gavin is certainly winning now. You’re welcome Gavin.

Did you get April Fooled? Have you been part of any practical jokes of note? Would you have believed me that it was fancy dress? Discuss below please people.

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A photo I found on Facebook of me and a chicken

I’ve had a lot of lookalikes through the years. Pre-beard these tended to be pretty rubbish (Pat Nevin) with the occasional one that made me think “okay, I can see that” (Louis Theroux when he takes off his glasses.)

With the arrival of my beard in 2004 things stepped up a bit. They ranged from the flattering (Serge from Kasabian, Vincent Gallo), to the lazy lookalikes (Justin Lee Collins, pretty much anyone with a beard on TV).

Then about four years ago everything changed.

“You look like Joe Wilkinson”

I was in the pub after filming a sketch at Channelbee with the comedian Joey Page. We found a photo online. He looked like me. I mean, really looked like me.

A picture of Joe Wilkinson I stole off the internet

From that point on I heard it all the time from comics. Pretty much every time I was around London-based comedians.

Twice I was at comedy gigs and the stand-ups said “Hi Joe” to me during their sets. Both times I had to have a conversation with them in front of the entire audience to explain I wasn’t Joe. Both times they didn’t believe me.

This uneasy stand-off continued for a couple of years. Then one day I looked at my phone of an evening. I had a number of messages from friends and twitter followers, all asking me if I was on Never Mind The Buzzcocks. I knew exactly what was happening. I had feared this moment would come.

Joe’s arrival on mainstream television was tough to take. For years I had been the most famous person with my face. Sure, it’s not a very competitive field, but I didn’t ever expect it to be an issue.

What would this mean for me? Was Joe going to become an arena-filling comedy god and I’d have endless people telling me I look like him? How would I react? Would I like this? Would I ever get so low that I would one day pretend I was him to impress girls?

In time, Him & Her arrived on TV and a whole new batch of people told me I looked like the character Dan. I objected at first, unaware that it was Joe, then relented as I saw the cast list on the closing credits.

Barely does a week go by now without someone telling me I look like Joe. While writing this article I have received this message (whilst playing online scrabble):

Incidentally, it’s not just me who has had to deal with this. Joe sent me a tweet the other day, saying people had asked for his photo thinking it was me. This must be a blow to anyone’s self-esteem:

We’re now at a crucial time for the battle over our face. Here is my assessment of who is the most famous:

TV Career

We did about 40 Soccer AMs a year and I was on the show for seven years. Assuming an average of 4 minutes screen time a week, that makes 1,120 minutes of TV for me. Joe has only been on TV regularly for the last couple of years, and I’d be surprised if he’d clocked up that many minutes.

But on the other hand, Joe has been on terrestrial TV which everyone knows is better, and has been on TV since 2007, which I have not (except, apparently, in a Ford advert that I have never personally seen). It is with this in mind that I declare this round a draw.

Other Stuff

Joe is a stand-up comedian. He regularly performs at comedy clubs and the Edinburgh Festival. He’s also been on BBC radio quite a bit.

The thought of doing stand-up makes me feel sick, and the only other media stuff I’ve done is student radio when I was at uni. Round two goes to Wilkinson.

Twitter

In the modern age, the accepted barometer for fame is Twitter followers. I have just shy of 10,000 at the time of writing. Joe has an impressive, but not quite good enough 8,000. Round three goes to Knox.

So after that thoroughly scientific study I declare that we’re pretty much even. With me not doing anything that is likely to result in any fame increase, it’s really Joe’s race to win or lose. Will he buckle under the pressure, relinquishing all face rights to its original owner? Or will he thrive under the pressure, becoming the first comedian to headline Knebworth and condemning me to a life of “Do you know who you look like” questions from my friends and twitter followers. Only time will tell.

Who has the rights to this face? Do I need to hand the face baton on to the young up-and-comer? Should Joe have to have a face transplant like that French woman who had her old face eaten by a dog and was on the news a few years ago? Let me know your views in the comments below. Or more likely just write tramp a lot.

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