Doctor In The UnbelievaBase

We've told you a lot about our exploits over the years. We've related tales of villains we've dealt with, celebs we know, ladies we've met (Hello, ladies!!!) disguises we've worn, annoying pipe-smoking toddlers we've kicked through plate glass windows, cars we've driven, even records we listen to. One thing we've never discussed, though, is our doctor.

This morning, we got an email from one of our fans with a question we had never been asked before, from Emma Royds of Zolfo Springs, FL:

I love reading about all your exploits and adventures, but you guys sure do get yourselves into some scrapes. You never mention getting any injuries, though - are you super-human or do just have a really good physician?

Your pal, Emma 

Well, Emma, we do like to think that we are pretty resilient but we're definitely not (quite) superhuman. We do get the occasional boo-boo or owie. And when we do, it's the job of this man to fix us up.

This, folks, is our personal physician,  Dr. B.J. Hardick, treating Michael for an ear infection.

Now, I know what you're thinking. That's a made up name, eh? Well, you could not be more wrong. 

Here's his name tag if you want proof.

 It isn't his birth name, though. He changed it from Dr. I. Sawyer-Bitz, so it's an improvement.

He has a nurse who assists him in his daily duties.

Her name is Angie O'Gram, and she's very small. Seen here is Clark with a headache.

Here are a few pics of Dr. Hardick at work.

"Say aaaah." "Why?" "My dog's died."

That's right, Dr. Hardick was also personal physician to The King. Apparently Elvis was so concerned for his health that Dr. Hardick needed four assistants to keep up with his needs.

Not really sure what's going on here. Move along.

"Where's my Ibuprofen?" Clark still has a headache.

Michael and Clark will tell you more medical tales later in the week.

How Elvis got to be everywhere

Yes, Elvis was a very good friend and an invaluable confidante to The Unbelievables. We were devastated when he passed away. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to mourn before we had to spring into action to deal with the consequences of his death.



You ain't nothing but a group
of organisms or cells produced
asexually from one ancestor or stock,
to which they are genetically identical.



Very, very few people knew about this but one of Elvis's greatest interests was human genetics, specifically the area of cloning. Deep beneath the Graceland compound is a laboratory where far stranger things routinely took place than could ever occur at Area 51, which doesn't even exist so forget I mentioned that. Being a conscientious and ethical scientist, Elvis insisted on conducting these experiments only on himself. As a result, he accumulated thousands of clones over the years. Some of these experiments were more successful than others but he kept them all in a holding facility, where they were fed and cared for lovingly... until his death. That day, utterly distraught at the passing of their patriarch, the cloned Elvises (or Elvi) broke out of the holding facility and swarmed out into the world, running amuck over the state of Tennessee. The level of panic was incredible. The city of Memphis fell almost immediately. Citizens were advised to head to the state capital in Nashville with the promise of first aid, shelter and protection from the National Guard, but that was a pipe dream. All major population centers were completely overrun within days. Stockpiles of food, ammunition and KC and the Sunshine Band records were being exhausted at an alarming rate. Small bands of survivors scavenged for supplies by day and tried their best to avoid being serenaded by off-key renditions of "Love Me Tender" by night. Those people did the the best they could against the Elvi but they were fighting a losing battle. Thousands of people were being Thanked, Thanked Very Much every day.

"Ma'am, the hunk a hunk a burnin' love is coming from JUST OUTSIDE THE HOUSE!"

We got there as soon as we could to assess the situation and came up with a plan right away. Since all British people know each other, Jeff called his pal Paul McCartney (who had faked his own death in 1966 so he could quit the Beatles and concentrate on his true passion, sheep herding, but that's a whole other story) who immediately assisted us in training elite Beatlemania commando units. Because there's nothing in the world that Elvis found more threatening than the Beatles, with the possible exception of a nice, fresh salad.

Although, there's nothing that says you can't deep fry a salad.

We deployed those units strategically throughout the region, where they encountered the clones who turned and retreated in terror. Eventually, they were able to steer the majority of the Elvi back to Graceland where they were corralled again, hosed down and given a nice meal of banana pudding and Dilaudid. They settled right down and are docile and happy today, ranging freely about on Graceland's back 40 acres, an area not open to the public. 



Beatle Team 6; the unsung heroes of Loudon, Knox, Grainger and Claiborne counties



The operation wasn't a complete success, as some got as far away as South Carolina, Georgia and New Mexico where they took jobs as short order cooks at truck stops, leading some to believe they had sighted The King himself. Even now, finding some of the stray clones in places all over the globe is not uncommon. All we can say is that should give you an idea of the sheer numbers we were faced with back in 1977. At least, as Michael pointed out, they're manageable now. And you're welcome.



"B-a-a-a-con, p-e-eanut butter, b-a-a-nana sandwiches!!!"



Elvis and The Unbelievables

Well do we Unbelievables remember the sadness we felt when we heard the news on August 16, 1977. Elvis, the King of Rock'n'Roll, was no more. We couldn't believe it. We didn't believe it. We were gutted. Because we were not only mourning the loss of one of our idols, but also the death of an honorary Unbelievable.

I remember the first time we met Elvis.

We were at the HQ and heard on the wire that The King was filming on location in Vegas.

"Why, that's just down the road from us!" cried Michael excitedly. "Let's vamoose, muchachos!"

We hit the road, taking along our pal Monica Lewis, as she was not only a fan of The Pelvis but we figured she might be handy in getting us onto the set to meet the King. How right we were.

We got as far as meeting that immense tool Colonel Tom Parker, Elvis' manager. He kept us talking for what seemed an age, professing to be a fan of ours and wanting to discuss all sorts of plots and conspiracy theories and whatnot. Every time we made for Elvis' dressing room door, he would start waffling on about another topic and eventually we had to distract him. This is where the lovely Monica helped. Clark said, "Say, Colonel Tool, uh, Tom, have you met our friend Monica?" and so enraptured was he by her charms, we were able to slip away from the awful old bore and into the King's presence.

Turns out he was an even bigger fan of ours than Colonel Tom, so much so that he wanted to help us in whatever way he could. After much discussion we decided to let Elvis be an informant, but he wanted to go one further.

He was stunned to be able to join us.

He suggested that since he travelled all over the globe, we should let him set up an international network of celebrity informers, and this is what he did. 

New recruit: Scrappy the wonder Dog. Not really had much info from him, but awwww...

Wherever he went he recruited other entertainers and thus we have the global network that exists today. Not only that, but whenever he found himself in the neighbourhood, he would drop in for a game of Parcheesi or touch football. 

He kicked our asses that day.

He had great ideas for parties too. Here we see him at our "Oops! I Forgot My Pants!" party...

Then there was the "Overblown Prog Rock" social evening...

And the "Stand On A Ladder and Sing" mixer. 

He also enjoyed pranks, as do we. I remember the time we glued his nose to a mirror. Oh how we laughed.

He was a very friendly and amenable fellow who would do anything as long as there was a deep-fried chili cheeseburger and a peanut butter and banana sandwich involved.

Unfortunately, this was to become his downfall. Not just the food, but he was such a well-meaning chap, as soon as some rough types out there found out that Elvis had a predilection for such grease-laden comestibles, they would have him do their evil bidding by tempting him with such treats and then keep him silent by plying him with alcohol and drugs. Then he got hooked on those, and this took a terrible toll on his body.

As you see.

So that day when the news came, we just turned on the TV and watched Viva Las Vegas, reminiscing about our good friend and compadre Elvis Aaron Presley and all that he had achieved in his all-too-brief life.

It wasn't long before the rumours about his death being faked started to circulate. There were so many reported 'sightings' of Elvis that even we Unbelievables couldn't be sure. However, we do now know the truth, for a couple of years following Elvis' demise, one of his recruits, a young lady named Kirsty MacColl, sent us a coded message that confirmed once and for all that the King was no more.





"There's a guy works down the chip shop swears he's Elvis," sang the lovely Kirsty. "But he's a liar, and I'm not sure about you." That was all we needed to know - anyone who says they're Elvis, and therefore anyone who says they've seen Elvis despite the fact that he was meant to be dead, is a bald-faced liar.

I'll leave it to the other guys to tell you more about our association with Mr. Presley, but I'll leave you with this thought: Kirsty herself died in mysterious circumstances in the year 2000. Spooky, no?