Death In Vegas: "Men talking about their record collections are like dogs sniffing each other's bottoms"
Andy Crysell, Muzik, April 1997
SPOOKY. VERY spooky. It's 11 am in deepest Clapham and in a cafe full of wheezing old men and cackling women, Richard Fearless, the sharp-dressing DJ from Death In Vegas, is doodling faintly satanic pictures of Elvis in his notepad. Simultaneously, he's discussing the rock 'n' roll icon's last hours, when... "Return to sender/Address unknown". Uh-huh, The King himself is suddenly with us, crooning ruefully from a tiny radio in the corner of the room. Erk! And indeed double yikes! Have we stepped on his blue suede shoes?
Total word count of piece: 1936
