Alex Lloyd, fat. b*stard.

A few weeks ago, on my way to the shops in Queens Park, I saw a familiar face. A guy who looked uncannily like Australian singer-songwriter Alex Lloyd was talking loudly to a builder about the renovations on his house. I stopped and stared - could it be Alex Lloyd? Could he have followed me from Sydney where last I heard (from a glossy Sydney Morning Herald magazine) he was happily ensconced in an expensive house with a wife and kids? There *are* an unprecedented amount of Australians in Queens Park, comprising of about 97.3% of the clientele of the war-zone Sainsburys but this was getting ridiculous.

A long time ago in a university household far away I used to know a lot of bands, and manage a lovely singer. I was at a gig once where Alex Lloyd was playing, and my very English friend Andrew was commenting on the lineup. The first in his sights was a techno band called Sonic Animation. He scoffed at the musical talent on offer. 'Sonic Animation - knob twiddlers, Alex Lloyd - fat. Bastard' is how he summed up the entire show. Someone in front of Andrew turned around. 'What did you say?' he asked - it was Alex Lloyd, reducing us to fits of giggles and meaning that no-one could ever call him anything other than Alex Lloyd Fat Bastard from then on. My only other encounter with him was when my friend's band was supporting him and Mr Lloyd was singularly unconcerned with whether or not I could find said friend after the gig, looking at me as if I was a groupie. So he only earned a more persistent use of the ALFB nickname.

Anyway, this Lloyd-a-like was wearing a horrendously British tracksuit - you know, matching blue polyester Adidas a la Del Boy in 'Only Fools and Horses'. I rang Erin. 'Erin, I think I just saw Alex Lloyd in Queens Park,' I said. 'But he was wearing this horrendous polyester tracksuit... could it be him?' 'It's weird you say that,' Erin replied. Apparently she had started singing an Alex Lloyd song to herself for no reason while walking down Salusbury Road and realised now it was because she'd seen a Lloyd-a-like too.

We forgot about this, but yesterday I was at local jazz joint Hugo's having a vino or two with an Australian friend Mia and, like some kind of scary clone, the Lloyd-a-like complete with blue tracksuit walked out of Hugo's with a cold beer - despite the fact he didn't seem to have walked in at at any point - and besides, who* goes to a restaurant to get a cold beer when they sell it at the corner shop, I ask you! Smacks of rockstar lifestyle. This time I had a witness. After paying our bill we set off around the corner to see if we could gather more evidence, but like the Terminator, Lloyd had melted into the urban landscape. 'He moves pretty fast for a fat bastard,' remarked Mia.

So we repaired to Ben and Erin's where we did a bit of google stalking. The headline on his personal site was 'Look out London'. Yes, it turns out - Alex Lloyd has moved to London. It seems you can run but you can't hide, Sydney is following me around the world.