WORSE THAN BLACK SHIRTS
Forty years ago on Wednesday I was working in Daffy Dale’s De-cal Store in Wildwood, New Jersey, when a woman burst in yelling “Elvis has gone, Elvis has gone”.
Within minutes, Daffy had me printing letters on black shirts which spelt out “The King is Dead”.
Hours later he pulled me aside and said: “Shocking news.” I answered: “Yeah, he was only 42,” to which he replied: “Not him. Black shirts. There’s not a single one left on the east coast. If only the jerk had given us warning he was going I coulda retired on him.”
I’m guessing, following the news about Glen Campbell, America has run out of rhinestone shirts by now. Because the one thing you learn over time is when famous people die the hovering vultures smell money.
The shame for Princess Diana is that many of the vultures who got fat feeding off her corpse have never stopped circling.