I was a little bit distracted by Crispian’s screams to enact my very clever plan of escape straight away, so I decided to feign sleep for a while. When I woke Elvis was strutting around look very unhappy.

“What’s up Presley. Still disappointed that your brother Reg was the more talented one. Though of course in this context I am using talent to mean – at least he made less records.”
“Your boyfriend had nothing of use in his brains except fantasies of Jane Fonda in Barberella.”
“That’s a coincidence. I have fantasies about Electric Barbarella. And feeding every single remaindered copy of it down the collective throats of Duran Duran.”

He shrugged and walked off for a second, to return with his infernal drilling device. The idea was to insidiously bore into your brain. Kind of like listening to Brian Eno. Before he could fit it to me however I managed to shift my weight slightly on the rack, toppling the whole affair on to Elvis’s old frame.

I had noticed that this was quite an old set of torture equipment, wooden and rotten from lack of use from the mid seventies. So a slight push made the whole thing fall, crack and put a nice big wooden stake through Elvis’s heart. It also got me close enough to grab the keys before all the agents came running. I was out of the shackles in a second, freeing the now lobotomised Crispian in another. To be fair it did not make much difference to him.

I grabbed Elvis’s ridiculous gun, shot him a couple of times to make sure and then headed for the back stairs to avoid more agents. In a matter of minutes we were out in the horrific Tennessee air, and heading for the woods. Wood which now, despite his protests and his surprisingly long life, Elvis finally had for a heart.

ELVIS PRESLEY – Wooden Heart

It is a song about a puppet really, and that is a topic I have covered extensively. Nevertheless for those who are not aware of the horrors of this genre – Wooden Heart has a couple of other notable horrors about it. Namely a really poor German verse. Even Nena – who actually was German – realised that singing in that language was the kiss of death for any chart hits.

Elvis was well known for his gyrational efforts, which is why it is odd he would do a novelty hit like this, only suitable to be danced to by unipeds. The slow hop clopenfuff, the original dance, would have made even notorious sex god Elvis look a bit stupid, his quiff bobbing in the breeze. The song was written as a nice counterpoint to his time as GI in Germany. I guess if he thought he might die in combat the least he could do is also commit career suicide.