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Morrissey, the consumer monkey.

Both the Mash and the Guardian (!) have both kicked Mozzer.

Excellent stuff.

From the Mash…

“On The Smiths re-forming, he writes: “Work with those trio of twats? Sod that. Mike Joyce has still got my belt sander and he bleeding well knows it.”

Morrissey never had a belt-sander. Does he look like the kinda guy who even has a set of screwdrivers? Does he fuck! If you want a shelf putting-up ask me, ask your Dad but don’t ask Mozzer. He will recoil in horror because you have cheese in the fridge. And then write a dreadful song about it.

The Guardian has this (but read the whole thing, like the whole Mash article)…

Sod Morrissey, a bitter, old hasbeen who a couple of years ago told the Guardian that “it’s a relief to feel relaxed in more places than just one” (he has homes in Los Angeles, Rome, Switzerland and Britain) and who called the Chinese a “subspecies” for their treatment of animals.

The class that he now represents – a middle-aged, capital-rich, metropolitan elite – doesn’t give a toss about you. They’ve proved it in every way it is possible to prove.

Like HS2, like windmills, like all the rest? Yup. Mozzer is the ultimate last twat up the ladder onto the Zeppelin and laughing self-righteously as he does it. He is the “Last of the international playboys”. He is a complete and utter wanker.

The Guardian article goes on to witter on about how 40-something white males are Mozzer’s last fans. Well, speaking as a 40 year old white male I never liked him when I was 15. Oh, there were Smiths fans at my school but they were all professional miserablists like Mozzer himself.

I prefer Blondie.


  1. RAB says:

    I prefer Blondie

    Yeah me too. Did I ever happen to mention the time Debbie and I were having a drink and a chat backstage at the Roundhouse and… ;-)

  2. NickM says:


  3. Lynne says:

    RAB, you old smoothie!

  4. RAB says:

    And… I was going to leave it at that, Debbie being a running joke between us. But hey, if you really want to know… I haven’t done an anecdote in a while…

    It was a Stranglers gig, and the Liggers and Hacks were out in force that night, not just to see the Stranglers, but to check out their proteges the Pop Group, a very avant garde bunch of schoolkids from Bristol who were playing support. That’s why I was there, I was writing a feature on them for Sounds magazine.

    Anyway Me, Debbie, Hugh Cornwall and the Pop Group were having a chat and ploughing through the free bar and buffet after the gig, when Hugh spots Jane Suck carving her way through the throng towards us. Jane was Sounds answer to Julie Burchill, except that she was a crap writer and madder than a box of frogs, always carried a copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s Tales of Mystery and Imagination around with her.

    “Oh Fuck No! not this bloody woman again! Quick, everyone follow me”

    So we all shot out the back and down the road to a pub very popular with musicians and the like. A bit later Fee Waybill of the Tubes came in. He’d been at the gig and was a mate of Hugh’s, and he invited us all back to the hotel the Tubes were staying at for a party…

    And as you can see the Tubes ladies were none too shabby looking either!

    That broke up around dawn, then it was back in the van and off down the M4 to Bristol for me and the Pop Group. Not a bad night out all considered…:-)

  5. NickM says:

    I kinda expected an anecdote rather than a reminiscence ;-) I kinda expected a little RAB born in the USA or something. A sort of RAB II Harry if you get my drift. But I am younger and to be honest I had to live with the likes of Haircut-100 and Kajagoogoo. Utter shite. Now wonder why I started listening to Blondie. And peados like that total idiot (assumed) fiddler kiddieth-wise DLT (a talentless git anyway) presenting Top of the Pops. An utter moron beyond human belief or human help. I guess, oddly enough, it was the likes of REM and U2 that turned me on to non-classical music. Yeah, it took that long. I think having to do the “Birdie Dance” at primary school kinda scarred me.

    And I guess up to a point the Jovi, though I only really, really liked them much later. I seem to have this thing of only getting into bands like ten or twenty years after they were at their stadium playing height. Not U2 obviously who just trog on abysmally.

  6. RAB says:

    A sort of RAB II Harry if you get my drift.

    Yes that would have been a blast wouldn’t it? But Ness would have had something sharp and cutting to say about it, probably involving garden shears. I certainly would have if given the opportunity, but alas I am of a type (tall, lanky, lath thin) that women do not find immediately physically attractive. I have always had to laugh them into bed, and that takes time. I just didn’t have enough time dammit!

    Debbie was and remains a very beautiful lady, who was great fun to hang out with, even for just a little while. And I’m sorry you got the shitty end of the music stick, being born when you were. It’s worth remembering though that Blondie had no intention of being a Pop sensation. Their mates were the likes of Talking Heads, Television, The Ramones, Richard Hell and the Voidoids… I first saw them supporting Television at the Colston Hall Bristol, and they sounded rather like the Jefferson Airplane! They wanted to be an avant garde art band like Velvet Underground. They just happened to write some insanely catchy tunes and had Debbie as the front woman. The rest is history as they say.

  7. A deeply cherished memory is strolling past the concert area in Finsbury Park, where Morrissey was strutting his stuff, just as the audience started throwing cans.

    Pub a short scramble from the Roundhouse? The Steels perchance? Get half the history of rock in there on a good night. And the chance to slip over & listen to Tony Ashton murdering the joanna in the Load of Hay for light relief.

  8. RAB says:

    just as the audience started throwing cans.

    Full ones I hope ;-)

    No idea as to the name of the boozer. We wuz jus cider drinking yokels up in the big city for the day like. In, out and off to the party.

    Ashton Gardner and Dyke? Christ that takes me back!

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