I'll tell you something that happened when I was old. A sly crone from Thebes mandated in her will that she be carried to her pyre by her heir on his bare shoulders, and that her corpse be well oiled. She could give him the slip at last who had been too much with her in life. You have to be careful. But still waters don't run.
Flattery is crucial.
If the wind kicks up, beg him to cover his dear head. Run interference for him through a crowd. Tilt your ear when he talks. Lob praise at hime until he throws his arms skyward in surrender. Fill his ego's balloon with unctuous breath until it pops.