A Question of Identity Solved

I finally had a decades old mystery resolved in the cereal aisle at Lidl earlier this week.   Ever since I moved to Crapchester, many, many years ago, I've been plagued by complete strangers on the street shouting 'Frank!' at me - they are clearly disappointed when I don't respond.  Because, obviously, my name isn't Frank.  Nor is 'Frank' an alias I've ever used in any of my nefarious activities.  To be fair, these incidents tailed off over the years and I can't now recall the last time it happened, but it has still bugged me.  Who is 'Frank'?  Why do people think that I'm him?  Why the fuck do they feel it necessary to shout his name across the street?  I speculated that, perhaps, I was living some kind of Jekyll and Hyde existence, transforming periodically into 'Frank' and associating with the sort of idiots who bellow that name at complete strangers, but having no memories of these deprivations when I turned back into me.  Either that, or I had an evil doppelgänger roaming the streets of Crapchester trying to ruin my non-existent reputation.  

Anyway, earlier this week I was in Lidl one evening, doing my shopping, when this bloke starts shouting down the aisle at me.  He clearly thought that he knew me, although he was a complete stranger.  He approached me and insisted that he knew me and that he'd recently trimmed my hedge (he was a gardener and tree surgeon).  He seemed taken aback that I didn't recognise him and that I assured him that I didn't have a hedge to trim.  He was adamant, though, that he'd done this job for me at my house on one of Crapchester's estates (one quite close to the branch of Lidl we were in, as it happens).  Eventually, I convinced him that he was mistaken, but he insisted that he'd done this job for someone who looked like me (and more disturbingly, dressed like me).  So, I had to ask him, was this guy called Frank, by any chance?  He was pretty sure he was, but double checked by consulting his client list and work schedule on his phone:  yes indeed, this double was called Frank!  So there you have it, it turns out that 'Frank' is a flesh and blood bloke - with a hedge - who happens to look like me.  Which I find perplexing - like most people I like to think that I'm unique.  Sure, I have brothers to whom I have a family resemblance, but none live, or have ever lived, in Crapchester.  Even more perplexing is the fact that my previous job often took me to the housing estate in question, probably to the very street where this guy lives, yet I never saw him, nor did anyone there mistake me for him.  But hey, with the central mystery solved, why create more side mysteries?  I'm just going to leave it there - maybe grow a beard and change my wardrobe, just to make sure I'm not mistaken for him again.