Long Live The King...

I parked the motor on the Liffey Quays this morning, around 9 am.

As the England/Scotland match was about twenty minutes in, I ducked into the early house across the road to check on the score.

I DID NOT have a pint.

But the hallucinations kicked in anyway...

Scotland 6-0 up, Johnny Wilkinson as unable to kick a penalty as kick his grannys kitten, Elvis on the jukebox, and.....

Elvis in the corner of the bar, drinking Heineken.

Having learned my lesson at the Second Coming of Jeebus, I decided to take this one head on, and get in early.

"Howya, Elvis", says I, meaning no disrespect whatsoever to this malodorous drunken pretender to the throne.

"I am Elvis of Nazareth", says he, "and Ireland will be destroyed by a tsunami from Iceland on July 11, seven years from now. My new cd is out next month, keep an eye out for it. I'm going to try to save as many of my fellow Irishmen as I can, would you like to be saved?"

"You're grand", says I, " I have a berth on the Dalai Lamas Intergalactic Lifeboat, but I will buy the cd. See ya later, Elvis, I'm off to work."


This is, I swear, a true story.

I'm going to hit that boozer with a proper camera very soon....