Following The Mozziah

TUESDAY, 22 APRIL 2014

Lounging Around Part 3

Please note: the first two parts of this series can be found on demi-semi-mesmerizing blogspot FollowingTheMozziah, run by an out-of-work bod on the Isle of Wight.

http://followingthemozziah.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/day-917-our-mozzer-returns-with-new.html

Lounging Around Part 1

http://followingthemozziah.blogspot.co.uk/2014/04/day-934-lounging-around-part-2-parody.html

Lounging Around Part 2

"Boz..! Boz....!" groans the seminal artiste.

"You called, sire?" Boz replies, poking his head around the 1970s style glass door dividing kitchen from sitting room.

"More gin, Boz," groans the artiste. "No b*****d tonic water this time. And don't forget to pop in some omeprazole old son. The s*dding gastritis is playing up again."

"I can't tempt you with a Brian Clough Special, sir?" asks Boz, smiling with nauseating obsequiousness.

"I don't have a pint of vodka, let alone a thimble of orange juice, Boz. And even if I did - orange juice and gastritis hardly mix, do they?"

The seminal artiste flickers his eyebrows and rolls his eyes.

"I wasn't aware the FDA had approved neat gin as a gastritis remedy," utters Broken, flicking through his broadsheet newspaper. "I must have missed that memo."

"Why don't you have some of Boz's homemade wine, Mozzer?" asks Jonathan breezily.

"Boz Boorer's wine is about as palatable as his recent songwriting," groans Morrissey, closing his eyes. "Which is to say 'not very.' Both have that dreary predictability that comes with obese middle age; both lack complexity; both of them are liable to induce early morning vomiting on the faintest sniff."

"That's not vewy charitable!" insists Wossy.

"I have to say I didn't think Boz's wine was too bad at all," says Mikey Bracewell, sipping more tea.

"Not too bad! Oh I say, not too bad, kind sir! Like an ancient potion concocted from the blood of-"

"-Shut up Russell," Morrissey says with a terse glower.

"Perhaps you liked Boz's wine because it helps you forget how long it is since you had anything published," says Broken in an empathic voice. "Perhaps you have a drinking problem?"

Mikey Bracewell's face twitches slightly. After thirty seconds have elapsed he takes a sip of tea.

"I really don't think I..."

The men say nothing for three mintues and seven seconds while Boz prepares the gin in the kitchen. They watch the second hand tick round.

At last Boz enters with a large glass of gin on a silver tray. A capsule of omeprazole sits on top of the gin, slowly bubbling away as the enteric-coated lining dissolves.

"Ingenious," says Broken in his soft voice. "It reminds me of science experiment in school. We dropped a piece of potassium into powerful acid and..."

"BOOM!" laughs Russell, coarsely. "BOOM! I say... BOOM...!"

"Boom!" laughs Boz Boorer. "Boom!"

"BOOM BOZ..!" winks Russell, gesticulating wildly. Wossy laughs.

"BOOOOOOOOOM!" laughs Boz, louder now. Then he begins chuckling and slapping his thigh.

"Mother Mary give me s*dding strength," says Morrissey, clutching his crucifix.

"In this case, of course," says Broken. "The explosion is in Morrissey's gastric antrum."

"Nonsense," says the iconic star, taking the glass from his butler-in-drag. "This is therapeutic. You can't deny the medicinal effects of omeprazole old friend."

"A pint full of gin helps the antacid go down," says broken.

"...Acid go do-own! Acid go d-own..." sings Boz Boorer in a meaty voice, smiling fulsomely and then gazing at the seminal artiste, whose eyes close tightly.

"It's antacid, Boz. Not acid."

"I meant antacid, of course, sir..." says Boz. "Maybe you misheard me sir?"

"Turn the lights on!" says Morrissey assertively.

Solomon Walker - hitherto unseen lurking in the corner of the room dressed as a statue - stands to attention and looks very serious as he walks towards the iconic star, comforting him softly with his large, manly hands.

Then Morrissey points at Boz Boorer.

Solomon tries to identify the gentleman Morrissey is pointing at.

"...But sir, it's cold, and..." says Boz in a limp voice.

"I think that's..." says Solomon.... "... Boz Boorer."

"We don't need you. Go. We don't need you. Go..." says Morrissey.

The artiste continues pointing at Boz Boorer and steps backwards as Solomon Walker manhandles Boz Boorer away from the coffee table.

"Go! We don't need you."

"I was being ironic, sir," says Boz.

"Well you cab be ironic outside..." says Morrissey.

Solomon holds Boz's arm behind his back and leads him towards the utility room. He puts him in the garden, where he stands, staring at the grass, looking solemn.

"First my fans, and now my own session musicians..." sighs Morrissey. "The cruelty, the vitriol... will it never end?"

Wossy sniggers. Morrissey licks his lips.

"Barrett's oeseophagus is a very serious medical condition if not an outright disease. Mocking the afflicted is simply not on... besides, yet again Boz Boorer has demonstrated dereliction of duty. All I ask is for a pint of gin with slightly dissolved omprazole capsule on top..."

"Did he go and get it wrong again, Mo-ww-ee-say?" asks Wossy, looking glib. "Did he let it dissolve a bit too much again?"

"Absolutely... this is a very serious matter. We're talking life and death, or at least late night ulcer pain. I've told Boz clearly the enteric coating must be dissolved, but the medicine itself must not begin to leech out into the gin... I even bought him an egg timer to help him get it right. It takes seventy five seconds. But can Boz Boorer manage the simple task of timing it properly?"

Morrissey stares out of the window and looks glum.

"Lovely weather out there," says Broken, gazing at the floods of rain pouring down from the Cheshire sky. "At least give Boz a coat or something."

"A coat?" asks the artiste angrily. "Do I have an emotional coat to protect me from the spite my fans hurl at me during concerts?"

"But your fans adore you, Morr-ee-say! We love you like spurned children at the annual Christmas gathering... we love you like-"

-"I'll t*at you out in a minute Russell."

For a while nobody says anything. Then the phone rings.

"Well, where's my butler? Boz...! Boz...!" says Morrissey loudly. "Get that phone!"

"I think he's in the garden, Morr-ee-say," says mikey Bracewell. "Shall I get him?"

"S*d him," says the mesmerizing monk of post-punk. "I'll get it myself... yes?"

Silence.

"No, mam. Yes, mam."

Wossy tries not to laugh. Broken rolls his eyes.

"I'll record it for you, Mam... Really? She never did?"

Broken turns the page of his newspaper.

"...What? Your neighbour's put the Jack Russell out again? What? Inthis weather? The C**t."

"...Sorry, mam. No, I know I said I wouldn't use that word again. Yes, it's because Jonathan's here. You know what sort of language he uses..."

Wossy rolls his eyes. Broken smiles.

"...Yes I know, Mam. I don't know how he gets on the tele either. Absolutely, man. Yes, mam. I quite agree he's a c**t, mam."

Our Mozzer (@BRSChairman) put his head around the door of The Wrong Arms at 2.30pm (LA time) yesterday and tweeted, "Dictator of the passive".

The tweet immediately made me wonder if this could possibly be the title of a new album; in a similar vein to Ringleader of the tormentors - I am already visualising the album cover with a photo of Queen Elizabeth Battybird giving the bird.

DICTATOR OF THE PASSIVE

I made a quick check to make sure that a blogsite called DictatorOfThePassive1952 hadn't been set up, and can confirm that it hasn't. The reason that I looked up that particular blogsite address, is because on February 1st 2006; two months before the release of Ringleader, a blog entitled Ringleaderofthetormentors1972 was born; as was Morrissey's career as a blogger and subsequently a tweeter. RingleaderOfTheTormentors1972 was the prequel to MorrisseysWorld.

Morrissey started blogging OVER 10 YEARS AGO, and STILL no one has noticed.

I have often wondered why Our Mozzer added '1972' to the Ringleaders blog address. My own thought is that it has something to do with that Bowie performance on Top of the Pops in 1972. Perhaps that performance in 1972 is the point at which Morrissey realised, 'At last I am born', or maybe Bowie was the actual Ringleader of the tormentors, and not Morrissey.... or maybe not! Who knows!

The only other recent tweeting activity from Our Mozzer came last week, when he retweeted a photo posted by Bitter Bobby Neville (@geniussteals) of the late film director, Derek Jarman.

I have nothing else to report, but whilst trawling around looking for MorrisseysWorld bits, I found this item originally posted on the MorrisseysWorld blog on May 20th 2011. It is a great reminder of just how funny MorrisseysWorld was. I have added some links to some of the subject matter:

Good morning from Cheshire. What exactly is wrong with most journalists? Just as happened on the radio in recent weeks, when my views were cut and shut by a half-wit on the editing desk, so my beautifully-written newspaper article was crumpled into something resembling a bald rant about Her Maj. Here is the original letter reprinted in full, complete with editorial annotations/misrepresentations and a few choice comments of my own. Boz offered to defend me himself, of course, but bearing in mind the mess Boz made of writing a simple article on my blog last week, it will be a while before I trust him again. There is a reason I dock my guitarists a week's wages when they speak on stage...

The original letter sought to analyse two grave injustices and to demonstrate, through the use of a very clever analogy, how oppressive both the monarchy and the British legal system are.

The Queen's visit to Ireland is part of a new Palace PR campaign to re-invent the Windsors. The message from the Queen will be the same as ever: who we are born to is more important than what we achieve in life. Having achieved a great deal of success in the field of popular music with a small band known as The Smiths and a solo career spanning four decades, from the release of 'Suedehead' in 1988 to the release of 'Glamorous Glue' in 2011, I do feel well-placed to comment on this matter. Incidentally, you can still pick up 'the very best of Morrissey' on www.amazon.com for the very reasonable figure of £8.93; I don't know what that is in EUROs. And what, may I ask, have Mr Joyce and Mr Rourke achieved over a similar timescale? (edited this - not sure it adds weight to your broader argument. Interesting points, though. Bloody good value 'best of' - ed)

Similiarly, Andrew Rourke's visit to Eye Weekly last decade was part of a new rhythm section campaign to re-invent the entire history of the band formerly known as The Smiths. The message from Rourke is that pattering away on a bass guitar is just as important as writing classic pop songs, singing them beautifully and reinventing the face of popular music and pop iconography. Just as Poly Styrene trumps Kate Middleclass, so I feel Morrissey trumps Rourke. In other words, stop whining about little old me, and try actually coming up with some new music. You don't want to be a parasite for the rest of your days... (relevance? Perhaps you could write us another article about the break-up of the Smiths - ed No chance - Moz )

It should be remembered by the Irish people that as recently as the turn of the 1980s the Queen supported Margaret Thatcher by not dismissing Thatcher as she allowed hunger strikers to die at the Maze Prison, most famously Bobby Sands, who was 27 years old. As Sands starved to death in protest at being tagged a 'criminal' and not a 'political prisoner' by the Thatcher government, the Queen sat in her Palace and said nothing. If the Queen had any human feelings for the Sands family or other hunger strikers then she did not express them.

Similarly, Judge Weeks and the Queen sat idly by while I was forced to downgrade from one litre bottles of strawberry and banana 'Innocent' to those small bottles that wouldn't satisfy a bluebottle. The credit crunch has affected us all, you know... The Queen, as head of state, ought to apologise for both miscarriages of justice. Sands and Morrissey, Sands and Morrissey. Has a ring to it. By the way, I notice Old Weeksy is at it again: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/new...icle588551.ece Only at least this time the old duffer is awarding some millionaire's assets to a legitimate charity - Old Joyce may well be a charity case, but that's not quite the same thing, is it? (interesting points all, but libel issues arise, sorry Morrissey - ed )

Not only did the old sow (steady on - ed - true, the pig is a noble animal - moz) preside over the Sands tragedy and the Morrissey catastrophe, but The Queen only went and gave an OBE to a broadcaster I know well who cannot even speak properly, whose identity I shall protect here for legal reasons. He enjoys the odd visit to www.online-strip-poker.com, he has not a jot of wit or imagination and, frankly, possesses no discernable talent. Imagine that: a former BBC TV presenter who once drew a seven figure salary, and who dresses like a visually impaired traffic warden, receiving an OBE. And for a lifetime of blood, sweat and tears shed in the never-ending quest for lyrical and vocal perfection by the singer from the Smiths? Oh, nothing. But forget about little, old me. It seems EMI already have... (sorry, would be better in the autobiography, I think - ed.)

The full meaning of the Smiths is, like the Queen herself, a complete mystery to most people. It is protected from any investigations by ridiculous stories of trivia, urban myths re: sackings of bassists with postcards under the windscreen wiper, and on-again-off-again accusations of racism with no basis in fact. The most revealing statement came from The NME last millenium, when they warned that any British people carrying Morrissey placards who are "seen in the vicinity of the NME offices" would be pointed at and laughed at. This means that any political dissent in England is silenced in order to protect Joyce/the NME, which in itself goes against every principle of democracy. Honestly, it's a farce, really. But then what do you expect in a country where judges are able to get drunk before passing down judgments and can make over 50 mistakes in a judgment without being held to account? And yet if little Mozza goes out and makes the odd mistake, one never hears the end of it... Still, that's the gutter press for you. By the way, no offence intended to the nice chaps at www.hotpress.com... (I beg your pardon? - ed)

The very existence of the former members of the Smiths and their now enormous families – many members of which are now supported by the British taxpayer whether the British taxpayer likes it or not – is entirely against any notion of democracy, and is against freedom of speech. For a broad historical view of what the Smiths is, examine Gaddafi or Mubarak, and see if you can spot any difference. Like those leaders, I have been persecuted within an inch of my life, and all because of bloody democracy and rule of law. But ask Weeks why he did what he did - go on.

You won't be able to.

The Queen also has the power to give back the six counties to the Irish people, allowing Ireland to be a nation once again, as well as the legal right to overturn Judge Weeks' verdict. The fact that she has not done so is Fascism in full flow. What else could it be? Name one other European country that is controlled by its neighbour? And when you're done, try naming another lead singer who has been forced to hand over cash to his former drummer in what amounts to a shabby show trial. As a poet once said, 'Sorrow Will Come in the End...' (removed the Smiths references - sounds good overall - sorry I had to remove so much. Still reads nicely - ed. )

MORRISSEY

Morrissey's note: **It still reads nicely? Next time you want a 'celebrity article' edited to within a hair's breadth of its life and sucked dry of all wit, imagination and intrigue, I would suggest you approach Alan Titchmarsh. As for your suggestions about what to include in my autobiography, I must say I'm surprised. I had been under the impression you were, in fact, the editor of a no-marks publication that will publish any old celebrity article, rather than 'poet of a generation,' pop star and author recently approached by Faber. My mistake.

Would Morrissey really have written, "Her Maj", or could this piece possibly have been the work of one of the other MorrisseysWorld authors.... someone like Rustle Brand. I wonder whatever happened to him?