The King is dead

Lordy lordy!!! I fear Elvis has left the building, possibly forever. Saturday night was a farce of truly heroic proportions. Elvis has a girl-friend, younger than him, blonde, and quite frankly a bit of a slapper. He is obviously obsessed with this creature and rumour has it his wife has left him. He sang to her, gazing lovingly into her eyes. Between sets they behaved with unmitigated lust in the corner. Finally, new girl-friend began dancing next to him, in front of him, practically in his pocket. She was wearing very tight leggings, almost black tights, which were slightly transparent, and a very low cut top more suited to the summer. She walked (in tiny high heeled boots) in manner reminiscent of veloceraptor (spelling wrong), from Jurassic Park, and danced in most peculiar fashion, utterly unaware of shrieks of mirth from people in pub. As evening wore on she danced ever closer to Elvis while he struggled to sing with her hanging off him and gazing into his eyes. They became a double act of dubious veracity. The landlady remarked that 'we can do without this' as she gazed in horror at them. Alas I have to agree. Like I said, The King is Dead.