ST. HELENA’S OWN

January 11th, 2019

It’s a tepid Friday morning in Dundee. About two hundred people gather in a field on the outskirts of town. Through the cold mist, familiar faces appear—some of the UK’s most recognisable, from Queen Elizabeth to Elizabeth Taylor, Jermaine Jenas to Germaine Greer. But this isn’t a gathering of the world’s elite.

This is the Annual UK Lookalike Contest, a notable event that brings celebrity doppelgängers together. They assemble in a muddy field, decorated with flags from thirty countries, attracting an international audience. A man from Pitcairn Island protests the missing flag, and his act, almost like a tribute to his ancestors, nearly sparks a mutiny. The uprising is swiftly contained, and the rebellion against the organisers remains quiet in discontent.

A man claiming to be Nigel Havers draws the table’s attention. Many sneer, weary and unconvinced, he’s the real Nigel Havers.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to crown the annual winner of the lookalike contest.’

The celebrity doubles turn, eyes on the person believed to be the Chariots of Fire star. Many are here more for socialising than the contest, which is secondary to seeing who has transformed into their favourite EastEnders star.

Havers nervously announces Rory Trevallyan as this year’s Golden Plastic Mask winner for his striking resemblance to English cricketer Ben Stokes. Rory bows as applause breaks out.

‘Thank you, gents. This is lovely. But for me, this isn’t about resembling Ben Stokes. It’s about something more.’ He tears off his top, revealing a T-shirt bearing St Helena’s flag. ‘This is about earning sovereignty for our great land. We Saint Helenians have struggled for years to be taken seriously by the Brits. We’re treated as a joke, a mere answer to one of life’s trivia questions. We’re a proud nation with a strong history and even stronger pilchards. I will see that we are taken seriously as a nation.’ Rory clears his throat and hocks a bit of phlegm before beginning a song.

‘My heart is drifting southward


To my home down in the sea


To the Isle of St Helena,


Where my loved ones wait for me.’

A group of men, duplicates of Tory politicians Boris Johnson, Rishi Sunak, and Jacob Rees-Mogg, surround and escort him.

‘Of course you’re just like your lookalikes, bloody Tory gits.’

‘Such political defiance is not welcome here,’ says Morris, the Boris impersonator.

Rory keeps singing as they drag him away, the Tory lookalikes also dragging the Nigel Havers lookalike away, much to his dismay.

‘You’ve got it wrong; I really am Nigel Havers.’

‘No, you’re not, and in this organisation, you cannot claim to be the real person. It’s against our policy.’

At the fence of the lookalike outing, both men are thrown into the mud and kicked out of the doppelgänger conference. Covered in mud and shivering, they help each other up. Rory, enraged, has an unquenchable fire within him.

‘Saint Helena will be heard, even if I have to take drastic action.’

July 13th, 2019

It’s the night before the World Cup final between England and New Zealand. England’s cricket team has finished training at Lord’s. Captain Eoin Morgan names an unchanged squad from the Australia match. Their hopes rely on one man.

All-rounder Ben Stokes goes back to his hotel early to rest. After having little impact in the previous game, he aims to shine in the final. With 381 runs and 7 wickets to his name, he’s seeking a match-winning performance to lead his country to victory.

Lounging on his bed, he orders room service: an omelette and sparkling water, a light pre-game treat. He wants to enjoy himself before tomorrow. He watches Chariots of Fire. Notably, a man claiming to be Nigel Havers recently defected from England to the Pitcairn Islands. Ben relaxes and enjoys the film.

After about forty minutes, a knock wakes him from his doze, half-awake from a line about Falkland sovereignty. Confused by the editing, he stumbles to his door, smelling the eggy mushroom omelette.

He is met with a shocking sight: a man who eerily resembles him stands in the doorway.

‘What the hell, mate?’ he says, perplexed. It is like looking into a mirror, the man even sporting his signature arm sleeves. However, he has little time to be shocked.

The man rushes the food cart into Stokes, knocking him off his feet. He locks the door behind him before ripping off his apron and revealing a St Helena flag shirt. This is Rory Trevallyan, and he has a plan.

‘Benjamin, I need to be you for a day. For the motherland,’ Rory says.

Ben stands, baffled yet instinctively swinging a haymaker that only grazes the doppelgänger’s chin. Rory, back against the hotel door and surprised, quickly pulls a dart from his shirt pocket.

He strikes the rod, firing a dart at Stokes, who tries to swing but is hit in the neck. Ben collapses, unconscious, turning a quiet night into a tense situation.

Rory takes a moment to compose himself before acting. He pulls out a St Helena flag, wrapping Ben in it like a spring roll. Then he picks Ben up and places him on the bed, next to his omelette, a Scotch egg, and a can of St Helena tuna.

‘Sorry, Ben, but after tomorrow, you’ll see why I did this. My St Helena brothers need to be respected.’

Once Ben is secured, Rory grabs Ben’s cricket gear, composes himself, and leaves. Tomorrow, he makes history.

July 14th, 2019

The stage is set for an intriguing World Cup final: England vs New Zealand at Lord’s, packed with fans. The weather is perfect, and the atmosphere is electric. With two evenly matched teams and a true pitch, it promises a great game.

As the English finalise preparations, their Irish captain, Eoin Morgan, notes an absentee.

‘Where’s Stokesy?’ he asks. They look around, but no one knows. Eoin runs his fingers through his hair, concerned.

‘We’re fucked without him.’ One man is less concerned about Stokes: spinning all-rounder Liam Dawson.

‘Does this mean I’ll get a go?’

‘Don’t go too eager, Dawson,’ Eoin rebuts. Liam snarls. He is sick of sitting on the sidelines. He wants to get into a game to prove his point. Under his breath, he mutters, ‘He’s not even English, he’s one of them.’ This catches Eoin’s attention.

‘What was that, mate?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Good,’ Eoin says, getting up from his bench. ‘Because you won’t get a game with that sort of lippy rubbish, fella.’

With a stern warning dished out, Eoin goes out to perform the toss. The English team is on edge.

Eoin reaches the middle and is greeted by Kane Williamson, Nasser Hussain, and Ranjan Madugalle. After some pleasantries, the coin is tossed; Williamson wins and chooses to bat. After Kane’s spiel, Nasser turns to Eoin.

‘You would’ve liked to have won that one, Eoin.’

Eoin smiles, a nervous sweat rolling down his forehead as he worries about Stokes.

‘Yeah, Nass, it looks like a good cricket pitch. The Kiwis will attack from the start, but we need to stick to our plans.’

Eoin looks around, hoping to see Stokes in the dressing room. He hesitates to name Liam Dawson but may have to as time runs out.

Eoin shoots a nervous smile, unsure what to say. Nasser notices his nerves and probes further.

‘I sense you’re a bit nervous. Are you a bit overawed by the situation?’

‘NO!’ Eoin snaps, then recovers. ‘We must stick to our plans. As Britain, land of mince pies and jellied eels, we must be the jelly that sticks together.’

Nasser is taken aback. What a weird thing to say.

‘Uh, OK then,’ he says, looking at Eoin like he’s been caught stealing bread. ‘Any changes today?’

Eoin’s heart drops: he wants to be truthful and not let down his nation. Ben isn’t here; Liam Dawson must be in.

Ben runs into the interview, looking like he has had a rough night—pudgier, more tanned, slightly shorter. Despite Eoin’s initial surprise, he is a sight for sore eyes.

‘No changes, baby, we’re winning the World Cup, for the motherland, woooo!’

Stokes saunters off, appearing slightly gassed. Eoin is mystified but relieved. His side is unchanged; Liam Dawson is to peel the oranges. Phew.

England vs New Zealand. New Zealand’s innings.

New Zealand’s innings begins. The man claiming to be Stokes takes to the field at deep midwicket. Near him, Liam Dawson peels an orange with a knife, visibly unhappy that he isn’t playing the final. His high school sweetheart watches from the stands with her boyfriend; Liam still harbours feelings and aims to impress her.

He notices the out-of-shape Stokes panting heavily, growing suspicious. This doesn’t look like the prime of an athletic career that has carried England to a World Cup final. It looks like a man who’d struggle in the fifth division. His sleeves are tighter and less flattering, baffling Liam.

A few overs pass, and New Zealand are 1 for 33 off 10 overs. England have been good aside from Stokes’s misfield. Stokes seems more focused on energising the crowd and starts singing ‘My Saint Helena Island’, amusing the audience.

‘Long since I’ve left it,
But I’ll soon be going home
To my Saint Helena Island,
And I’ll swear I’ll never roam.’

Elsewhere, Eoin Morgan stands baffled in slips. This is supposed to be England’s biggest cricket match, but Ben is singing about a remote country. What is he on? Why is he doing this?

Chris Woakes bowls to Kane Williamson, who plays a rash shot. The ball goes to Ben Stokes, creating a crucial moment. Williamson has been cautious, and getting him out could be key for England to seal the game.

Ben is distracted, singing a familiar tale with a drunken crowd.

‘Diamonds, they are pretty,


So are your fancy cars,

But St Helena Island is
Much prettier, but far!’

The Duke ball sails past Ben’s hands and over the rope for six. New Zealand commentator Ian Smith summarises the English team’s feelings.

‘Dear oh dear, I bet there are a few people in that dressing room who wish Moeen Ali or Tom Curran were playing.’

‘Or Liam Dawson,’ a voice from the crowd says, belonging to a man resembling Dawson.

Nobody knows what is up with Ben. He is a consummate professional with a great reputation, but the artist formerly known as Ben Stokes is tarnishing it.

Back at the Hotel

At around 12 p.m. that day, the real Ben Stokes wakes up, dazed and confused, slowly unrolling himself from the St Helena flag as if unrolling a lit cigarette. He barely remembers the night before, suspects he was robbed but isn’t sure, and needs to get his bearings.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he turns to see the meals. He’s confused by the Scotch egg, thinking it was an omelette. He bites into it; the moist inside is unsatisfying—no runny, creamy egg to wake him. Disappointed, he bites again and feels something strange—like soggy paper with a woody taste. He pulls out a small scroll, inspects it, and reads something that mortifies him.

‘Hello Benjamin, sorry about the subduing, but my mission usurps human rights. I have taken your place in the starting eleven to push a higher purpose. I am a Saint Helenian who is tired of the British refusal to recognise us as a sovereign state. As the unrecognised winner of the Dundee Lookalike Contest portraying myself, I knew that a major figure promoting our sovereignty would put us in the national spotlight. We tried with Nigel Havers, but he was taken by a local and wedded off to her daughter, but I digress. I will use my place in the cricket final to promote our country’s independence and hopefully get a wicket. Sorry, mate.’

Ben is petrified, fearing his reputation in England may be ruined by a fringe weirdo’s political agenda. He processes this, wondering if it is a fever dream. Turning on the TV, he sees New Zealand at 126 for 2, with a graphic showing Kane Williamson dropped twice by Ben Stokes. Ian Smith describes the situation.

‘I don’t understand what Ben Stokes is doing. He’s dropped Kane Williamson twice, sung with the crowd, and argued with Liam Dawson. This is bizarre. I don’t know what I can say, Nass.’

Stokes is sickened by this. He knows he must act. He quickly gets dressed and rushes out to reclaim his dignity.

New Zealand innings. 45th over.

It is the 45th over, and New Zealand are 4 for 211. Kane Williamson has made a chanceless 88 and is nearing a hundred. Eoin gathers his troops in the middle, and Liam Dawson runs out about a kilo of oranges. Ben Stokes keeps singing nationalistic St Helena songs on the boundary, his presence as useful as a tissue in a flood.

‘Guys, we need to finish strong here. Woody, give us hell.’ He turns to Mark Wood, who looks a bit apprehensive.

‘What’s wrong, Woody?’

‘I’ve done my hammy, skip, I don’t think I can bowl.’

This is the last thing Morgan wants to hear. Mark Wood—his secret weapon—neutralised by a hammy twinge.

‘Do we bowl, Rooty, Dil? We need to keep the pressure on the Kiwis.’

‘What about Ben?’ Joe Root asks, almost tokenistically.

Eoin looks at Joe with deadly seriousness. ‘We’re not chancing him, whatever he’s on.’

‘What about Liam Dawson?’ asks Liam.

His teammates are confused as to why he has started talking in the third person. Eoin laughs this off, yet Liam looks serious. He squeezes an orange tightly, juice spilling from his hands. He has a serious thought.

‘They’ve just brought in the concussion rule, right?’

His teammates look at him with pensive expressions. Turning away from his teammates, Dawson starts sprinting towards Ben Stokes. The desperation seeps out of him like the orange juice on his blue shirt. He wants to deal with this problem.

He sprints towards Ben a fire in his eyes and a deluded hope of being subbed into the 11. As he reaches Stokes, he threatens him.

‘Get out of here, this is Liam’s time,’ he exclaims, before swinging a particularly hefty fist at Stokes. Stokes ducks and, in a scene reminiscent of a Bristol nightclub two years earlier, decks Dawson with a straight jab. The crowd, which has become increasingly sympathetic to the plight of St Helena, cheers Stokes as he leads another round of singing.

Morgan sees this, and with a look of dejection, he turns to Adil Rashid and says, ‘You bowl, mate.’

It is a disastrous final five overs. Williamson completes his hundred, and New Zealand finish on 5 for 270. To win the game, England needs to bat brilliantly.

England innings. 5th over.

England gets off to the worst possible start. Jason Roy is dismissed for 17 by Matt Henry, and Joe Root follows him next ball for a duck. Eoin Morgan walks out at 2 for 27. The World Cup is slipping away. He needs something special.

He has tried to find Stokes during the break, but Stokes has gone AWOL. Eoin has considered various strategies to mitigate Stokes’s descent into insanity. He has considered promoting Liam Plunkett to be a pinch-hitter; he has considered promoting Jos Buttler, and even forfeiting crosses his mind. He is really hoping Stokes can come right.

He has little time to find out. Two overs later, Jonny Bairstow is dismissed on 18, and England are 3 for 40. Ben Stokes is meant to walk out. For perhaps the first time in his life, Eoin Morgan doesn’t want Stokes to appear. The arrival of Jos Buttler briefly allays his concerns.

He and Jos get through a few overs, the duo taking England to 3 for 90 off 15 overs. As the drinks come out, Eoin hears a quip from New Zealand’s Jimmy Neesham that he doesn’t see the humour in.

‘With how Benny is acting today, we might be able to time him out.’

The Kiwis laugh; Eoin is enraged by this jovial remark.

As Lockie Ferguson comes in to bowl, Eoin becomes a man on a mission. He takes Ferguson for 23 off his over, 21 off the next. He is now on 76, his team is now on 3 for 134. His nerves are settled; they can do this without Stokesy.

However, disaster strikes on the first ball of Mitch Santner’s first over.

‘Bowled him! A lovely ball from Mitch Santner dismisses the England captain.’ Eoin Morgan looks down; his stumps have been dislodged. This is not good. He turns to the stands; he fears the worst.

In the stands, the man purporting to be Ben Stokes appears. He is no longer wearing his England jersey. It is the jersey of the St Helena national team, a distinctive yellow-and-red affair, quite a stylish design. He looks as focused as a picture taken by a monkey.

However, the most shocking thing occurs. As he steps onto the field, he is sideswiped by a man who looks eerily like him. This is a fitter, meaner figure, with less Scotch egg in his belly. It almost looks like the real Ben Stokes.

The two wrestle for a second. Stokes clearly gets the upper hand as he subdues Rory Trevallyn. He clips Rory a few times behind the ear for good measure. He is enraged. Nasser Hussain summarises the feeling in the crowd.

‘I can’t believe it. Ben Stokes has been acting weird all day, and now he’s being subdued by someone who looks like him. I’ve seen it all in this sport.’

Stokes wrestles the bat off the St Helenian nationalist and starts walking to the middle.

This whole time, Eoin Morgan has been standing frozen, barely believing what he is witnessing. Ben Stokes walks past him, whispering,

‘I’ll tell ya later, mate.’

Stokes then marches towards the middle. He only has a bat and a box, but that’s all he needs.

An appeal is heard.

‘He’s timed out, bro,’ says Jimmy Neesham, positioned at short cover.

Stokes is confused by the appeal. Neesham’s fellow Kiwis reluctantly join him.

Stokes looks around before pleading,

‘That tosser has had me cooped up in a hotel all day.’

‘I don’t care, mate,’ says captain Kane Williamson. ‘You need to get to the pitch in two minutes, and it’s been four already.’

Some conjecture occurs between the umpires. The crowd is perplexed by what they are witnessing. A few drunken, newly minted partisans chant St Helena’s national song, even as their fallen hero is tended to by medics on the boundary.

Umpires Erasmus and Dharmasena chat. They are unsure how to proceed. A timed-out decision has never been enforced in international cricket. It is more of a trivia question than an actual law. Is this going to be the first time it happens?

As the debate continues in the centre, a reprobate enters as well. A bloody and bruised Rory Trevallyn storms towards them. He has a microphone, a black eye, and a message.

‘Listen, I have been exposed like a buttock.’

Ben Stokes has had enough of this St Helenian nitwit. With a fury in his eyes, he starts chasing Rory into the stands. He wants blood; he wants revenge.

That must usurp the game because, mere moments later, he gives up. Ben Stokes is dismissed for a golden duck. England slumped to 5 for 134, a position they never really recovered from. New Zealand wins by 43 runs. Stokes becomes a national embarrassment, and the empire is rather miffed at those cheeky buggers in Jamestown.

St Helena

Several weeks later, a ship is slowly drifting into St Helena. Locals have gathered at the port to greet their prodigal son. Often forgotten, left in the ocean to rot by their colonial overlords, they’ve gotten their little bit of revenge against those poms up north.

As they are all gathered at the port, they see Rory Trevallyan on the bow of the ship. Confetti is shot; knickers are thrown. They have a national hero; someone who stood up to the Brits.

‘What’s he gonna say? – He doesn’t have a wife, does he?’ These are the questions shouted from the port. They wait with bated breath as to what he’s gotta say.

Unfortunately, he had bad news.

‘Sorry lads, the Brits are taking over now.’ Two warships emerge from behind the ship. The people of Jamestown grow despondent. Despite this, Rory offers one final bit of comfort.

‘At least they recognised us.’

Jayke Luland is a 27 year old writer from Canberra, Australia. He has self-published 3 novellas, Entranced (2020) Ken Kensford (2022) and Foragers (2025). His works often use absurdist, bawdy humour to comment on small town life. When not writing, he is working in television production as a creative producer and editor’