Posted: May 22, 2011 by Thom Dicomidis in Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

Walking along the promenade, eating his chips, China Miéville’s attention was drawn by a sudden yelp of pain. He turned instinctively, seeing a Cliff Richard Impersonator on the ground, being savagely attacked by a crescent of half a dozen Elvis Presley Impersonators. Bristling at the abuse of Britain’s most inexplicable celebrity (by proxy) he called out and stepped forward. Like one beast with six heads, a coiffured hydra, their eyes locked onto China Miéville, and they attacked.

As they swarmed over him he felt the crush of those Elvis Presley Impersonators who focussed on the latter part of The King’s career squeezing the breath out of him. Struggling futilely his leg kicked through, knocking a stack of Thai Elvis Presley Impersonator’s recordings off the edge of the pier. Shrieking, said impersonator jumped over the barrier and tumbled down into the sea.

Some of the weight lessened, China Miéville tried to get to his feet amidst the gallimaufry of his attackers. With one on each arm he could not fling them bodily into the sea, but managed to struggle as far as their stall. Homemade recordings, internet-made photo t-shirts, signed photos, a cornucopia of Elvis Presley Impersonator Memorabilia, awful kitsch taken to its ugliest extreme.

Kicking wildly he first shook then staggered the table, finally sending it spilling down into the cold sea. One by one, realising that the merchandise they’d invested their civil service salaries in was going to sink and disappear, they released China Miéville and dived in after it. Soon to be swept away, weighed down by wet suede, sequins and the inherent tragedy of their lives.



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