Ah ha ha, too excited as usual, better edit the bloody thing
Morrissey Review dr1
Reader, I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I had missed too many of my heroes. Ian Curtis tragically had hanged himself and yet Morrissey never did, so with much excitement we trailed to Hyde Park to watch the Mozgod in the flesh. I imagined I might be asked upon the stage to duet with Johhny Marr or perhaps that spiky chap with the goatee who had now replaced him.
It was a crowd of thousands, many dressed in the style of Morrissey in his heyday, spectacles, the cardigan whilst I wore only my tribute tribal anorak and the brogue shoes. Taking my woman by her tiny hand I pushed through the crowd, my wife spilling her beer as we tripped past the clouds of the cocaine joints and rested with only 7000 people between us and the stage.
My wife pulled her seventh beer from my anorak pocket and the PA system erupted back into life after the dreadful shit that we had already endured, Foo fuckers and Siouxsie Sioux as about as excited as a dead cat to see us etcetera.
‘I am hungry’ said my wife.
‘Starving. I can’t stay here without some food.
I rushed back through the 40 000 people stood behind me and rapidly purchased an enormous handburger to shove in my wife’s face.
‘There you are.’
And she threw it on the floor, or I dropped it just as the guitars burst into the sweet uplifting melodies of ‘Still Ill’ and I turned and left the woman and ran screaming into the mosh zone with all my boys, oh it was delightful pleasure. I was blow kissing, bopping about, screaming singing hugging all my Morrissey sisters, brothers and then…then he stopped playing Smiths songs and the whole thing became entirely boring.
I searched for my wife and I found her sat crying in a puddle.
‘You left me, you left me, you left me for Morrissey.’
Of course I denied any such thing.
‘You my darling are in my eyes like a fire that burns my eyes with such burning passionate erections, your personality I mean I adore every single whisper of your sleeping soul, oh shit.’
‘I love you too, ‘ she said.
We returned to the crowd but it just became too much. Morrissey at this stage lay on his face humping the stage like a little whale and then being so fat and sweaty he took off his shirt and flung it at the crowd, and singing all this crap I had never heard of, all these virgins in front of me, for God’s sake I yearned for the Proms, anything.
‘Piss off fatty’ I heckled
And then like hailstones I felt the little fists upon me, I was assaulted by the entire crowd. I knew we would have to get out of there damned soon I might be necklaced by a scrunchee or some other terrible….you know you know. I grabbed my wife’s hands and we fled for our lives.