A little light world domination

I had an email on Friday from someone who works in PR (I think) asking if I was the same Hannah Jones who was the subject of the TV documentary Fix My Fat Head. In it, the other Hannah Jones (or HJ II as I have designated her) attempted to explore the psychological root of her inability to follow a diet and tackle her obesity. The PR (I think) worked for some manner of expert who thought she could help HJ II with her struggle to successfully, and permanently, lose weight. While it is true that at the moment I could quite effectively, if fraudulently, pass for four months pregnant, I do not have a significant weight problem. I am not HJ II. I am, OF COURSE, HJ I. But I cannot deny that part of me was keen to respond to the email in the positive, just to see how far I could get before they I realised I was not the same person.

'Yes, you're right, I've really got the diet thing licked now. Licked! Ahahaha! Yes, just a bit of uneven distribution round the bum and hips, but that's mostly genetic really. Oh, and a little pot belly, but I quite like that...'

'What do you mean, I don't look anything like the girl in the programme? ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR?'

I am fascinated by people who have the same name, yet live wildly different lives. When you are privileged enough to be born into the Jones dynasty, your innate superiority is delineated by the high number of namesakes you have. They are mortal units of strength and power. As well as a blogger – young 36, non-smoker, GSOH, Capricorn – I am also:

* The teenager who finally agreed to a heart transplant after previously winning a legal injunction to prevent a hospital performing the surgery against her will.

* The Nike vice-president.

* The dance-music diva who had a hit in the 90s with a revved up cover of Bridge Over Troubled Water.

* A columnist on the Western Mail newspaper.

* An artist whose work 'explores interactions, especially those interactions occurring on a subvisible level'.

* Someone who worked at the BBC at the same time as I did in the late 90s, who caused me the indignity of having hannah.jones01@bbc.co.uk as my email address, and who would regularly have to forward ludicrous/lewd emails to me that had been mis-addressed by my friends with the perky words 'Yours, I think!'

I am all those people, and they are me.

I like that we are all connected in this way. I like the idea that we may be of one mind, that we could swap our flesh-and-blood hosts with each other and still somehow be the same person; that we are greater than the sum of our parts. That that one mind, with its corporeal foot-soldiers, could conquer the world. I am concerned that this is how many of the great dictators may have started out. [I feel like I may have used that line before. Apologies. I am still human. Albeit omnipotent.]

We are not the only ones/one though. Long ago in the short lifetime of these screens, I reflected on the many David Battys/Batties. And you would not believe the number of people who land on this blog while searching for one of them. Maybe you would. It is not that many. But still. Together they are mighty.

I am currently watching a 7-year-old child on the regional news who has raised thousands of pounds for victims of the Haitian earthquake. He is called Charlie Simpson, as is the lavishly-eyebrowed, former lead guitarist of the band Busted, who currently plays with the band Fightstar.

That's who I am. That's who they are.

Who are you?