The King has left the buffet

On my way into the business center in which I now sit, typing away feverishly, I nearly crippled myself. To be exact, I almost put my foot in front of the motorised chair of a fellow guest and believe me, if it'd got any closer to my dainty tootsies, I'd have been screaming this entry at a nurse. Notice I didn't call it a wheelchair as it wasn't, it's rather one of the vehicles they give to people who are literally, too fat to move unassisted. That's right, this'll be the entry about the fat people.

Now, to be crystal clear, I'm no waif myself but the sheer size of some of my fellow guests is genuinely horrifying. Seeing as you can get the most unbelievable buffets in any casino for about ten quid, the sight of some of them is all that stands between me and some serious seconds. There but for the grace of God and all that. They're the ultimate advertisement for sticking to salad I've ever seen. If you dropped down from outer space, I'm sure these people would strike you as being from an entire different species. Come to think of it, if you dropped down from space and landed on one of these people, you'd probably walk away unscathed - such is the amount of padding they're lugging around. They're an inexplicable and insatiable breed and yesterday, we saw their king.

After I'd taken some serious money from a couple of insurance salesmen at the poker tables (I wasn't playing, I did my world famous trick where I play the Maccarena on my arm-pit) Elaine and I headed across the street to Wild Bill's Casino for Happy hour. There, we got some cheap booze and the chance to soak in the sights and sounds of the one, the only, Big Elvis. The sounds were unsurprisingly, a more-than-decent Elvis tribute. The Sight, was an extremely accurate tribute to the dangers of double helpings. I'd estimate the man's weight at I reckon, 30/35 stone. He was so big he did almost the entire show sitting down on a specially constructed throne, standing every now and then for a couple of quick hip shakes that had less to do with making the Ladies weak at the knees and more to do with making ornaments fall off mantlepieces in China.

Big Elvis's assistant came out at the end of the show and bigged him up, for want of a better word. He rightly pointed out he did a cracking Elvis and then went on to get a bit teary eyed talking about all the weight he'd lost, that's right LOST, in the last two years. The room was whooping and hollering approval, Elaine and I just looked at each other gobsmacked. I'm sure the following figures are incorrect but both of us distinctly heard him say - He's lost over 400 pounds and he only has another 250 to go. Now, I can't believe that it's possible for a human being to weigh, let's say 850 pounds, which that implies Big Elvis was at some point. Losing 650 pounds of dead weight is the equivalent of Robbie Williams leaving Take That.

It strikes me though that Big Elvis's selling point is that he is 'Big Elvis'. If he does lose the backing band worth of blubber he's got going spare, he'll just be 'ordinary-sized Elvis' and in a town where having an angle to attract the punters in is everything, he'll just be yet another Elvis. Maybe he should still wear his old stage-clothes or come to think of it, use them to construct a marquee. I really hope he makes it to skinnyville and that when he gets there, he still has a booking. Everyone deserves a second chance, especially in a town where it's a lot easier to find a second helping.