Cooling With King Monkey

It's 1997 and I'm in a bar in Chorlton, south Manchester, with Ian Brown. His Stone Roses days are behind him, apparently, and he's got a flaming new single called 'My Star'. I like the solo record and while we've had a few episodes in the past, we're getting on well.

Ian's Mexican girlfriend Fabiola is filming the occasion and Noel, and old mate from the Roses days, is keeping things together.

Some old fellas from the other end of the pub are nudging each other and looking curious. Finally, one of them comes over and asks for an autograph.

"Here lad, are you famous or what?"

"I'm Ian Brown"

"Ian who?"

"Ian Brown. I used to be in a band called the Stone Roses"

"Sorry, I've never heard of ya. But listen, could you do us a favour? Could you sign this bit of paper for me grand-daughter?"

Ian is in obliging form. No problem. And then the old guy drops in a fantastically tactless remark.

"Of course, you know who we thought you were? We reckoned you were that lad out of Oasis."

"Nah" says Ian, not missing a beat. "He just thinks he's me."