(I’ve changed his name and some minor details to preserve his privacy.) He seemed to be whirring at the speed of Snapchat, and nothing still or serious could gain any traction in his mind. He had dropped out of school when he was 15, and he spent almost all his waking hours alternating blankly between screens – a blur of YouTube, WhatsApp and porn. I never gave it another thought, until everything had gone wrong. One day, as I tucked him in, he looked at me very earnestly and asked: “Johann, will you take me to Graceland one day?” Without really thinking, I agreed. He took to singing Jailhouse Rock at the top of his voice with all the low crooning and pelvis-jiggling of the King himself.
W hen he was nine years old, my godson Adam developed a brief but freakishly intense obsession with Elvis Presley.
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