Don’t you just love it when men of a certain age get themselves all shook up to look like Elvis Presley.

The rhinestones, the flicked-up collars, the rings on the fingers, the shirts open almost to the navel, the swept-back hair... the beer bellies. I’m sure this quartet of ‘lookalikes’ hoping for an entry into the Elvis World Championships in Memphis had a lot of fun, but honestly you’d have to stretch the imagination a long way to agree that they, in any way, might pass for the King. And just in case anyone – who was in the audience for my last appearance at the Liddington Arms – thinks of writing in, I would just like to say, yet again, that the embarrasing tear in the all-in-one jump suit was the fault of a nail which I caught on the way to the stage and absolutely nothing to do with my svelte-like figure bursting out of the material.