Google thinks I’m the spitting image of Zach Galifianakis


Apparently the ability to search Google Images using an image you upload has been around for a couple of years, I only fell over it today by accident.

Go to Google Images and click the camera icon at the right hand end of the search box. You will be prompted to upload an image, and Google will then search for images in its index that match.

I searched using the image above – it’s a studio shot taken for an investment prospectus a few years ago. Lo and behold it found a list of pages that include that image, and then gave me a list of “visually similar images”. Which is when things turned a little scary:

Screen Shot 2013-05-10 at 9.48.07 AM

Apparently I look similar to a bunch of Korean nuclear scientists, plus at least two chaps  named Christian.

For fun I tried with the charcoal sketch I use as an avatar on most sites:

charcoal cleaned up small

Here’s where I struck gold.

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Check out the first image on the bottom row. Google thinks I look like Abraham Lincoln. Most importantly note the middle image on the bottom row.


Yup, you got it right, Google reckons I’m the spitting image of Zach Galifianakis.


Turns out I’ve been scuppered by my complete lack of celebrity knowledge, apparently the image is of Bradley Cooper, it’s just that Google Images showed me the name “Zach Galifianakis” when I rolled my mouse over. So that’s who I presumed it was. Clearly I’ll never make an entertainment reporter on the E! network.


Caught out by my own child over an Aston Martin


After nearly 16 years as a parent I really should know better, but clearly I never learn. My son knows full well I covet a Maserati, as a fall-back an Aston Martin would suffice. I’m constantly buying lottery and sweepstakes tickets where one of the prizes is a car such as this.

From time to time, like many parents, I have been known to lament to my children that if it wasn’t for them, I’d be retired and living on my tropical island, and tooling around in an extremely expensive motor vehicle.

This desire is made all the harder by our neighbour over the road, who often parks his Maserati in the drive way, straight in my eyeline as I walk out our front gate. Of course, the Maserati lives in the driveway because all the space in his garage is taken up with his Ferrari. That’s what comes from living in a ‘nice’ suburb.

And with the text message above my 12 year old now clearly believes you can have your cake and eat it too.