Steve was struggling. The vaguely familiar face,- was it himself or Nige? Prosopognosia was a real bummer. Dr Shah had suggested focussing on a distinguishing feature.  For Steven it was hair,or the lack thereof. His own scalp was silky smooth, shaven each morning at Ali Barber’s; Nigel had locks that tumbled to his shoulders Some sufferers could not differentiate between a face and a car so the fact he could now recognise both his own face and the mirror, evidenced, he had been told significant  progress.

“Two Peas, two pods” his mother would say when strangers remarked on the dissonant appearance of the  non-identical twins,- different in height and  physique, yet  incongruously ditto-dressed with strangely duplicate faces. They dressed identically over the boundary-pushing teenage years, into adulthood and beyond into middle age . That and their penchant for wearing copy-cat beanie hats come rain, come shine, was their USP. Nigel, taller, red-headed, a beanpole, was the brawn and he, a Billy Bunter, the brains. Brawn, brains and sibling rivalry make for uncomfortable bedfellows. In adolescence Steven would invariably get the girl whilst Nigel, having been caught copying Steven’s homework, would spend the evening in after-school detention.