Who am I?

"Do you know who I am?" Blood gushed from a wound on the man's forehead as he staggered through the crowd asking that question. People gave him a wide birth, taking in his unkempt appearance, and presuming he was drunk. "Do YOU know who I am?" He grabbed the man's arm and swung him around to face him.

"Haven't the foggiest, mate." The man pulled away and carried on his journey.

The injured man plonked himself down on the edge of the pavement as the world began to swirl around him.

"You okay, Mister?" The little boy was about seven. He was closely followed by a woman, presumably his mother.

"No, I'm not. I don't know who I am, where I am, what's happened to me or anything."

The woman, at first concerned for her boy's safety, now became aware that this was someone in need of help. "Ambulance please. I have a man here with a head injury. He doesn't know his name. Okay." She turned her attention back to the injured man. "The ambulance is on its way. You've not idea what happened to you?"

"I know I've got the world's worst headache, but everything else is just blank." The little boy sat down beside him.

"Have you checked your pockets?"

"They're empty."

"Sounds like you were mugged."

"Probably. But that still doesn't answer my question; who am I?"

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