We were caught in a trap.
We could not walk out.
But it was nothing to do with love, baby. Just that fucking Federal Agent Elvis Presley, who believed that myself and Crispian had the secret to hyper-advanced alien technology in our brains. Surely they could tell just by looking that there was barely room in Crispian’s brain for instructions on how to wipe his own backside (or his U2 as I liked to call it for obvious reasons – it kept producing crap).

They tried simple questions on us first, mainly about the molecular structure of the giant spacehopper we traveled to Earth in. Unable to answer such simple zingers they tried more philosophical ones, such as “Is There Life On Mars?” I pointed out to them that any question that has already been asked by David Bowie is probably not a question a government agent should be seen to ask, banality and simplicity being at its core. This earned me a slap and a suggestion that if we could not answer their questions they could get the answers the easy way.

I facetiously suggested the drilled into our heads.
And then they got the drill.

I then suggested he start on Crispian, just to give me a good idea of the process. It was about this time that the bequiffed lickspittle Elvis returned into the building and slowly tried to cajole me into giving up my alien secrets. I just told him that the only alien I had met had really big ears, and he cuffed me with some of his Blue Hawaii karate. It was then though I formulated a genius plan for escape.

However they started drilling into Crispian’s head first. Oh well, it wasn’t as if he used his brain much.

ELVIS PRESLEY – Suspicious Minds

There is a moment in the excrable concert footage film “Elvis: That’s The Way It Is” where Elvis goes very quiet. I was hoping for a premature heart attack but it turned out to be him winding down for an explosive attack on the final chorus of Suspicious Minds. He barely sings it, just grunts like some unfit pig of a man and looks about as sexy as a Star Wars fan whose been in line for three weeks, stinking out his storm trooper costume. Actually, that is almost exactly what he looks like.

What was the appeal of Elvis Presley? Was it the wobbly legs? That funny voice that nearly always mispronounced words? Or the way he never left America, apart to do a job where he might get shot (about the only thing I liked about him.)

Suspicious Minds is one of his biggest hits, which these days means something that people sing in karaoke making faces like they have just had a stroke. Certainly the lyrics suggest some form of brain disorder “we can’t build our dreams on suspicious minds…” you try building anything on your mind and you’ll realise you have somewhat shakey foundations. Especially if its Elvis’s mind – obsessed with peanut butter and lard sammiches. Take that opening line: “We’re caught in a trap, I can’t walk out.” Wouldn’t be a very good bloody trap if you could just walk out of it. It be more of what the rest of us call a door.

In many ways Elvis invented rock’n’roll, and laid down a template for all the abominations that followed. His early death can only be seen as a sign from God, who liked his music all choral and pipe-organed. Now I am not saying God is right (infact he is not) but in this case my enemy’s enemy is my friend. And when you have God on your side, even Elvis is fucked. As Elvis says in Suspicious Minds “Don’t let a good thing die.”
We didn’t.