Tonight we're going to the pub, because Tony fancies his chances at winning first prize in the karaoke contest.
My fat friend just loves to get up on the stage - especially when drunk - and belt out a couple of Elvis numbers. Unless you've heard Tony sing It's Now Or Never or Suspicious Minds, then you haven't really lived.
It's a spectacle to be savoured, and even some of the pub's other customers reckon that Tony is in fact Elvis reincarnated, because the voice, the movement of the hips, the presence on stage, and the way women throw their underwear at him is just as it was with The King.
I'm only glad that the boy has finally cheered up, and that he's ready to meet his adoring public (they're his words), and entertain them like they've never been entertained before.
Last time he finished second in the contest, behind a very good Frank Sinatra.
However, this time luck will be on Tony's side, because the Sinatra impersonator who did so well last time won't be singing tonight, because he's currently serving a three week prison sentence for being drunk and disorderly in Hyde Park.
Still, as Tony rightly says, it seems that with Sinatra behind bars, the way is open for him to sing his way to a much-needed fifty pounds.
I only hope the fat bastard wins, gives me half of his winnings, and realises that life is too short to be miserable.