My desk calendar claims that today is 30 years since the death of Elvis.* A clipping I’ve kept from one of the pile of papers I’ve read recently has this letter:
In 1956, the year when Elvis Presley’s extraordinary talent burst upon the world, I started to teach in a large mixed comprehensive school in north-west London. I shall never forget the elderly senior mistress coming into the staff room one morning and saying sternly:
‘I must speak to a boy called Elvis Presley because he has carved his name on every desk in the school.’
So, I’m guessing, Elvis impersonators wouldn’t be keen to volunteer to be him, when the annoyed schoolmistress was out looking for blood.
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* It obviously doesn’t subscribe to the theory that he was an alien and left Earth for home on this day.