2007-06-08 - 12:23 a.m.

New Orleans, LA, USA

It�s been a satisfyingly surreal tour du Deep South so far. It began in Tupelo Mississippi with an Elvis-centric European press trip � there was a convention of impersonators, sorry, tribute artists which meant you saw fourteen Elvis�s (Elvi?) by the time you were done with the breakfast buffet. More days should start that way.

The Elvis birth-shack isn�t really worth seeing to be honest, but there are two old dudes there who tell borderline believable stories about their schooldays with the boy though they should get their stories straight on important issues like whether Elvis could swim or not.

From there, onto Memphis, where apparently it�s city law that you consume your own bodyweight in barbecued meat three times a day. I�m no rib-phobe, but we were exposed to frankly intimidating amounts of fried cattle, not to mention �home cooked� (i.e. rendered with amounts of cholesterol as yet immeasurable by conventional means) chicken.

If you�ve never sampled the particular �delights� of Beale Street, save for a few interesting corners (real musicians not playing �jazz� versions of Madonna or some shit), it�s just a one block collection of the tackiest tourist grief-holes you can imagine. Obviously the only way to negotiate them if you have to (and we had to) is to get horrendously pissed. It�s mostly overpriced shitpits and bad blues, though.

Oh, and overt racism � always a nice touch. I was engaging with a couple of local girls in the only way I find comfortable � ie. by us all buying hypodermic syringes full of vodka jelly and injecting them into each other�s mouths. All good knockabout stuff. Next thing you know, Kerry-Sue or Ellie-May or Lerlene-Agricultura or whatever their names were are telling me how they would like this city more if it weren�t for all the (insert N-bomb here)-s. If I�d have been more sober, I would have told her that what the place really need was less inbred bigoted (insert C-bomb here)-s, but I was so shocked I just had to back away slowly.

The cool bits were touring Sun Records and Stax�proving that the city does have a wealth of talent, just a shame it gets washed over by the tourist guff.

OH, and Graceland, of course! I was ready to hate it, but actually found it pretty interesting. The last bit is to process past the grave, and though we had planned to do a Spinal Tap tribute when we got there (badly harmonising to Heartbreak Hotel), it just seemed a bit disrespectful. Plus, the real fans would have lynched us on the spot.

Anyway, after all that excess, it�s good to arrive for a week in a city of moderation, sobriety and restraint. Sadly, I�m in New Orleans, where the drinking water is 30 percent proof. Oh, well.