
Sure, there were plenty of other mirrors you could win on Goosey - the Jack Daniels and Guinness ones were also in abundance. But you had to win an Elvis Mirror because, well, he was The KING, God damn it! There must be at least half a million Elvis mirrors in attics, basements, cupboards and even on walls all over this town, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that if there was ever an alien invasion with spaceships spitting out death-rays, Nottingham would only have to cover the Market Square and Council House with Elvis mirrors to ensure our safety.
By the mid-70s, they were a common sight at the Fair. But it wasn't until 1977, when Elvis was only fresh in the grave for two months (assuming you don't believe he never died, of course), that the cult of the Elvis Mirror took a hold on Goosey. The man was everywhere. Thin Elvis, holding up a guitar with a bit of a divvy expression on his face, at the Prize Bingo. Butch Elvis, in his leather jacket, gazing down from the array of prizes at the Coconut Shy. Tanned Elvis, in his Hawaii period, peeking out on the darts stall. Vegas Elvis, in that white jumpsuit, holding court over the plastic ducks. The only one that was missing was Morbidly Obese, Whacked Out On Drugs Elvis.
As time went on, every tuppenny-ha'penny Pop Gonk rose up in mirror form to challenge the reign on the King, and he defeated them all. The Human League. Madness. Duran Duran. Bros. Curiosity Killed The Cat. Vanilla Ice. All of these mirrors appeared at one time or another, and then faded from view. Only Elvis remained.
I'm not sure when the Elvis Mirror finally faded from view, but I do know I spent 20 quid on year trying to win one, after I'd spent most of my life taking the piss out of those who did. Well, it had to be done. And if you've still got yours, you'll be happy to hear that they're commanding outrageous prices on E-Bay these days. Sometimes they go for as much as £1.50.
Next: Scream If You Want To Go Faster Man!



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