![]() ![]() ![]() Rennie also ties in plenty of other aspects from the American underbelly, his caricature of the King representing every good ol’ country-lovin’ patriotic redneck with a worldview that doesn’t extend beyond the ‘You are now leaving Trumpsville’ sign on the edge of town. The King is never identified as an Elvis Presley who somehow survived his globally publicised death in 1977, as after all there’s an estate extremely protective of his image, but if you want to believe that it’s your goddamn right as a free-thinking American, and there are a surfeit of hints encouraging you in that direction. This fine piece of pimped vehicular excess is driven by a greaser who refers to himself as ‘The King’, black Harley t-shirt barely covering a pot belly and jeans so tight they ensure his lineage will extend no further. Never has the Public Enemy line about “Elvis he’s a hero to most, but he never meant shit to me” been as scabrously realised as in Gordon Rennie and Martin Emond’s White Trash.ĭean is hitching a ride in the back end of the back end of nowhere when a pink cadillac with bison horn trimmings pulls up. ![]()
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