Betcha thought there was only one Elvis, right? Wrong. And betcha thought he was dead, too. Wrong again: for at Malahide Castle yesterday afternoon, halfa-dozen Elvises pouted and strutted at a lookalike contest organised by Fingal Co Council as part of a series of family days out. Oh, yes, the King may be dead - but his pretenders are alive and high-kicking. The afternoon began promisingly as professional Elvis impersonator John Coates and the Elvis Karaoke Band burst into action with Big Boss Man and a foot-tappin' gospel medley which had everyone from kids in Adidas track-bottoms to senior citizens in sensible shoes bopping on the immaculately-manicured Malahide grass.

"Oh, yeah, I'm nervous all right," John Coates told The Irish Times seconds before he sprang on stage. "Always am." Always? "Well, I've been doing this since I was five, when I saw the movie Easy Come Easy Go on TV." And which Elvis, in particular, does he impersonate? "I do all the Elvises. Rock 'n' roll Elvis, army Elvis, Seventies Elvis. If you just do one type of Elvis, somebody's always gonna be unhappy, aren't they?"

Alas, just as the atmosphere was warming up nicely, the Irish summer produced a shimmy of its own and kids, grannies, Elvises and assorted clowns, face painters, a couple of dinosaurs and a jovial Humpty Dumpty scattered for cover as the rain pelted down in merciless sheets. Most of them ended up in the backstage tent, where the wannabee Elvises were forced to abandon their modesty as their changing room was invaded by a dripping audience, and forget their pelvic thrusts in the rush to get their rhinestone-studded costumes out of the way of the drips making their way determinedly through every crevice of the groaning canvas. "Oh, no - where's the glue?" Shane Devine, another Elvis lookalike veteran ("I went to see an Elvis show in Rathmines in 1977, and that did it for me") was groaning too as he discovered a loose rhinestone on his belt, an elaborate confection made of lino, leatherette and gemstones of every conceivable hue. First-time Elvis Gary Gibson from Kilkenny, meanwhile, managed to look both devastatingly handsome and distinctly dubious. "I was asked to stand in when somebody else dropped out," he confessed, with a devilishly Elvis-like grin. "I've never done anything like it before, and I'll probably bomb - but sure I'll give it a whirl anyway."

At the back of the tent Sean Waters from Portmarnock was arguing with his mother - a state of affairs not unknown to the real Elvis, by all accounts. It seemed the 11-year-old Sean entered the competition because he thought it was about dressing up. "But I only know two verses," he protested. Everybody within earshot told him not to worry, just hitch up his guitar, mind his Ray-Bans and get out there and enjoy himself; and Paul Burke from Fingal Co Council said it was OK, if Sean just wanted to sing one song, he could just sing one song and not the obligatory two.

In the back of their blue car, meanwhile, Maurice Colgan and his wife were sheltering their Elvis letters from the downpour. When Maurice was 19, and his wife was very ill in hospital, he decided a letter from Elvis would be better than any medicine - and was delighted when, in response to his request, the King despatched not just a note to his wife but one to himself. "Dear Maurice, I sent your wife a get well message. Take care of her and yourself. May God bless you both. E.P." The letters, says Maurice, have since been authenticated by Sotheby's, although he has no intention of selling them. "The monetary value doesn't really arise," says Maurice. "For us it was the fact of having letters from the most famous man who ever lived." And is he still an Elvis fan, after all these years? "Well, we drifted away from Elvis in the mid-Sixties, to tell you the truth. My daughter teaches classical piano and both she and her brother played in a youth orchestra, so nowadays our Elvis records are rubbing shoulders with Stravinsky and Shostakovich."

Back in the tent the Elvises were stiffening their quiffs for a late kick-off. "Historical record, nothing. This is hysterical," muttered Col Tom Parker, aka Andy Devine, who has been donning his Panama and a big cigar for about 14 years now. No, he has never been attacked by a loyal fan. "Colonel Parker was sinister - I'm not," he says, adding "I'm 65 and I've been told to slow down, but what would I do sitting at home?" He certainly won't be sitting at home between now and August 17th, when he is organising a charity auction of Elvis memorabilia at Leopardstown Racecourse in aid of Friedreich's Ataxia (potential donors please note: contributions to Andy at 01-8371702).

Suddenly the sun emerged, looking as innocent as a young you-know-who, and the lookalike competition got under way. The crowd rewarded each Elvis with cheers and applause, the band played a storm, and if it was Shane Devine who eventually - and deservedly - made off with the winner's trophy, the final verdict of the day was this: the King may be dead, but his spirit can still melt the most wooden of hearts. Uh-huh-huh...