Elfis Lives!
It's good to be The King!
Earlier this year yours truly
won a £120 worth of fancy dress gear in a Daily Star competition
(I read it for the share tips, just like you do).
Well, what else would you buy with fancy dress vouchers but an
Elvis kit? Yes, you'd choose to visit Planet Rock And Roll, course
you would. Wearing this in Brighton would probably gain me more
boyfriends than Freddie Mercury, so Riga was chosen for its world
premiere. Aberystwyth's top soil scientist Phil Olyott (Virgil
Tracy) bravely premiered the Thunderbirds kit that was also acquired.
Several men followed me around Riga nightclubs and one woman offered
to fuck me. But there were some plus points too
HELP: If you have any pix of me in the Elfis gear in Riga please email them to bobbing.cardiffcity@virgin.net as St Petersburg Police have yet to return the camera they stole off me last year in Russia. And thanks to everyone for making it one of the best days of my life.
WHAT'S GOING ON?: Bobbing Along's Wales trail is considering a different approach over the next 18 months. And Elfis will be compiling a top ten of every game - fan highlights, pix, silly stories, we'll even do a match report if it's been a boring day. You may have noticed over the last four years that we're really interested in ultra-surreal stories which every trip throws up. So we're appealing for items/pictures from the World Cup qualifiers. Also, Elfis sadly has to miss the Northern Ireland home game due to a gig in Chiswick (ie I gotta work), so we'd be grateful for any input from that match. And if we're already out of the qualification picture by the time our game in Poland is played then we won't be going if the match is in Warsaw, for the simple reasons you can't see the game in their away end, so what's the point?
OI! ELFIS HAS A 'V' IN IT: Hang on, this is a Welsh site and there's no 'v' in Welsh. So it's Elfis, gottit?
So here's what you might expect if you wear an Elvis suit in Riga and, believe me, I didn't touch a drop all night:
10
For some reason you become the most popular person in Latvia.
Old ladies smiled, kids waved, fans wanted their picture taken
with you, people came up and intoned: "Uh-huh-her" or
shouted: "Elvis has just left the building." Spooky
that the guy who coined that phrase actually died the day this
piece was written! RIP Al Dvorin. Anyway, heartfelt thanks to
you all. Elfis loves you.
9
A Finnish woman demanded that she should be sung a song in the
High
Street. I declined shyly - my crow's voice could crack a diamond.
She
insisted (obviously a dominatrix - how I envied her smiling boyfriend).
I
launched into Love Me Tender. After three words she screamed:
"SHUT UP!!!!"
8
For the first time since 1982 girls came up to me and said: "Hello"
instead of looking at me and searching their handbags for a sickbag.
7
Hey Mr DJ: In a nightclub I sidled up to the DJ and said: "Got
any of my stuff?" He said: "I will play it if you get
up on to the turntable desk and do some moves (what the fuck does
'moves' mean - what happened to plain old dancing? It's dancing
you nitwit). I got up on to the precariously mounted deck area
and he introduced me to the assembled throng who stared at me
as though I'd farted. He then played A Little Less Conversation.
I did my 'moves' and nearly knocked myself out on the ceiling.
6
Girls, girls, girls. What an insight into the life of Elvis! Man
alive, you sure found how out how stupid he must have been. Think
about it: how can anyway die on the loo after eating too much
when so many women want to say hello to you. I think I could have
persuaded myself to think: "Hey put that food and those chemicals
down and say hello to people." SAY NO TO DRUGS AND BURGERS
KIDS.
After doing my 'moves', I climbed down to the dancefloor wher a blonde 20-year-old threw herself at me and clung on for grim death. Cor! She bear-hugged me for two minutes - the best two minutes of my life - talking to the nitwit DJ at the same time before saying she was his girlfriend. Ouch! I bet the real Elvis always pulled the DJ's lady. Well, hey, it was great while it lasted.
5
Elvis gear does not always get you into East European nightclubs
automatically. On approaching the Roxy's miserable door staff
at 4am, we
were told: "Shut!" There were 200 people visible through
the window and a pumping beat deafened us. David, some Jock we
bumped into who said he worked for a Russian casino (by definition
then a Russian mafia employee) got us in. Cheers Dai!
4
Teenage kicks: For some reason an 18-year-old leggy Latvian lovely
with a penchant for ugly men who look like rotten turnips sat
next to me in the main square and talked to me alone for half
an hour about art, her visits to the Tate Gallery and her recent
holiday in Kensington. I pretended to be a big fan of Caravaggio.
Now she's texting me.
My last one to her: "It was a privilege for The King to meet his Queen. Get in touch if you visit London." Yeah, I know, creepy.
But her Slime Detector was set on 0. Bingo! Her reply had me kissing the mobile so hard I shattered the window. She said (just ask, I'll show it to you): "Hello dear Elvis! It is nice to get from u sms. I definately will come to London and visit u! What is your email? My is Karina@..." OK, if you want the rest of the email it's a £500 donation to Gol.
3
Free sex! At 8am the dodgy Glaswegian/Russian mafioso took us
to breakfast bar Black Cats where a 50-year-old woman decided
she liked Elfis as he sipped his lapsang souchong tea and put
New Order on the jukebox. They didn't have any Clash.
She rubbed up against me for the best part of five minutes, stroking my face which was nice - it reminded me of my mum - and asked in the accent of Rosa Klebb, to whom she bore an uncanny resemblance: "Do you like sex?"
"Um, er, um er, No," I stuttered. "I mean I can't remember." The real Elvis would have accepted her offer but rest assured my virginity is still intact and I know that somewhere out there my Priscilla is waiting for me.
2
Leaving the Roxy I was
approached by a shrieking local vodka casualty with Charles Manson
eyes: "Man, you the best, the best, the best. Look into my
eyes. LOOK INTO MY EYES!!!"
He had several pals with himk so I did it, fearing the worst. I looked into his red-rimmed eyes. He punched me on the chest in a supposedly friendly fashion the way macho East Europeans do - it nearly knocked my wig off.
Christ was I glad to get out of there!
1
Best of all! The 2003/04 season was the nadir of this fan's support
for the Welsh team, what with St Petersburg coppers and Italian
hooligans to contend with. But this trip, possibly the most enjoyable
of the last 15 years has rekindled the flame. Thanks to everyone
who helped out, and if if you spoke to me over there, you certainly
helped out.
Remember folks it's a wonderful world. And keep reading the Daily Star!
Thanks to: Gruff, Wales's greatest piano player, from Gogland, a scary Jock called David, Alex in Minsk, Ciaran from Ireland, Richard and Thunderbird Phil Olyott, Karina and anyone else who knows me.
adecolley@hotmail.com