I say a bit, but the general consensus is that we are twins that were separated at birth. The alarming regularity with which Kingston's student population mistake me for him frankly makes me dizzy. I was once even greeted with the not particularly nice "Alright, slut!" The look of horror on the young lady's face when she realised her error was priceless.
Del does have some usefulness though, it appears, as he's emailed me a sign from Puccino's window which they put up after they closed:
It certainly does.
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