Total Pageviews

Sunday, 4 December 2011

Following The Mozziah Day 81 Sunday 4th December 2011


Trouble Loves Me is, as I have previously mentioned, the adopted song of the Twitterdilly gang, it is also an anagram of 'Love MT Blue Rose'. I previously believed the empty blue rose to be Johnny Marr but I have reinterpreted it. The empty 'Blue Rose' is NOT Johnny Marr, it is in fact, THE MOZZIAH. At the beginning of our epic journey, The Mozziah was trying to form a society to mirror Oscar Wilde's 'Green Carnation'. His idea being that his followers would throw white and red roses at his concerts. The influence of using white and red roses no doubt came from Wilde's 'The Nightingale and The Rose' (see yesterday's blog). The secret rose society has not yet taken off but I think the society should be taken to another level. Blue Roses represent 'Unrequited Love' and 'a quest for the impossible'. This sums up The Mozziah to perfection, and since this whole campaign started, it can't JUST be coincidence that Blue Roses are now commercially available for the first time ever, it MUST be fate. 'Blue Roses' are NOT a natural flower, nor are 'Green Carnations'. The parallels are unbelievable. A 'Blue Rose' was also mentioned in the Twin Peaks film, 'Fire Walk With Me', a film mentioned numerous times on the MorrisseysWorld website. I believe the 'Rose Society' should see through The Mozziah's request to throw white and red roses at his concerts, for he IS the dying nightingale, giving up his life for those who come to listen to his song, but I would like to propose that a 'Blue Rose Society' forms. Yes Wilde is an influence to The Mozziah, a big influence, but The Mozziah is a very unique individual, an individual perhaps 'Seeking the Impossible', a man burdened by what he perceives as 'Unrequited Love', but he is a man loved by many, many people and the 'Blue Rose' represents him perfectly. I have adopted a 'Blue Rose' as my Twitterdilly profile but will change it back tomorrow to a red or  white one after the other Twitterdillians have read this blog entry. My idea is this, we all throw a red or white rose at whatever concert we attend, just before the encore as instructed by MorrisseysWorld, but we then also throw a 'Blue Rose', ideally during 'Trouble Loves Me' if Morrissey sings it, but if not, at the very end of the concert as a sign of our love for The Mozziah. 'Blue Roses' are truly special and most florists do not stock them, you have to order them in. You have to make an effort to get one. When I have thrown MY 'Blue Rose' onto the stage, or handed it to The Mozziah in person, I will change my profile picture back to a 'Blue Rose' on Twitterdilly, to show I have at last given my thanks and love. I think ALL Twitterdillians should do the same and I await their feedback on my idea. This 'Blue Rose Society' could start in Chicago with @Stillicling and @Heathercat222, who are both going and are committed to throwing roses. One of the girls could throw a red rose, and the other could throw a white rose and BOTH could throw a 'Blue Rose', ideally during 'Trouble Loves Me' or if it isn't sung, which I STILL believe it will be, then at the end. The rest of us could then continue the trend at the shows we attend. In many ways, whether The Mozziah WAS or  WASN'T ever behind MorrisseyWorld is now irrelevant, his disciples have picked up on an idea and are running with it, and have even adapted it to suit his uniqueness. Does it REALLY matter who's idea it was in the first place? In time, will anybody even remember? In a hundred years time, will the equivalent of Wikipedia describe 'Blue Rose' as the secret society who followed The Mozziah at his concerts, just as 'Green Carnation' was the secret society of Wilde? The decision, is yours. *Goes off singing* Ter Rubble Loves Me, Trouble Needs Me, Two Things More Than You do, Or Would Attempt To. Sooooooo console me, otherwise Hold Me, Just when it seems like every thing's evened out and the balance seems serene, Trouble Loves Me.


  1. Iron Henry – A Grimm tale

    The Young Princess - the honourable Monarch of the pen; The Rats Back
    Golden Ball - MorrisseysWorld
    Frog - MorrisseysMum, appearing on alternate nights; An Other, T’Other One and Tease a Mystery
    The King, the Princess’s father - Skinny Uncle

    One balmy afternoon in early spring a young princess went for a walk in the woods. She had a golden ball in her hand that was her favourite plaything, always throwing it into the air and catching it as it fell. The princess came to a well, chucked a penny in, and made a wish. Peering down into the well she saw a blue rose floating on top of the water. This enthralled her and she hopped excitedly from foot to foot, tossing her golden ball in the air. Now the princess did not always give her full attention to the job in hand and had a tendency to be distracted by any new, shiny thing. As her golden ball started to make its descent, she glanced down at the blue rose glistening on the water, and the golden ball bounced off her head and into the well. The golden ball and the blue rose were united at last, floating on top of the water deep in the well.

    The princess began to weep and wail, tears rolling off her downturned cheeks into the water as she whimpered ‘Alas! If only I could get my golden ball back again, I would give everything that I have in the world for it’. And as she lamented, someone said ‘Princess, I want to talk to you.’ The princess looked around, baffled as to whence the voice came. She gazed down the well and was surprised to see a frog floating on its back with his arms folded behind his head. The princess sniffed and whined, ‘Never mind about you. My golden ball has fallen into the water.’ ‘Quit snivelling,’ said the frog, ‘I can help, but what will you do for me if I return your plaything to you?’ The princess thought ‘what nonsense the silly frog is croaking! He cannot get out of the well, so I shall tell him he can have whatever he asks for.’ She composed herself and said ‘Dearest frog, I would give anything you ask for to have my golden ball back. It means the world to me’. The frog said, ‘I do not want material goods, but if you will love me and let me be your companion and play-fellow; let me eat and drink with you, and sleep on your bed, we could live in harmony. Promise this and I will return your golden ball.’ The princess thought about this carefully for a second and said ‘OK, but I want the blue rose as well.’

  2. The frog disappeared under the water and with a mighty push from his froggy legs the golden ball shot out of the water, spinning up the well shaft into the waiting arms of the princess. Next, the blue rose came flying out of the water. The princess caught the rose, tucked it jauntily behind her ear and skipped away, gently rolling the golden ball between her hands. Huffing and puffing the frog finally hauled his slimy, wet body over the rim of the well, having crawled up the well shaft brick by brick, only to find himself alone again (naturally).

    That evening, just as the princess had sat down to supper with the king she heard a strange noise – splish, splash, tap, tap. She thought this noise was from her iPhone so checked her twitter timeline, chuckled to herself and tweeted ‘Kumquat may.’ She was about to dip her spoon into her leak (sic) and potato soup when she heard a loud rap at the door and a voice cried out:

    ‘I could have mentioned your name
    I could have dragged you in
    Guilt by implication
    By association
    I've always been true to you
    In my own strange way
    I've always been true to you’

    Hearing these words the princess ran to the door and opened it. No one was there, but looking down at the ground she saw the frog grinning broadly. Disappointed she slammed the door in the frogs face and sat down to supper again. The king, her father, noticing that something had ruffled the princess’s normally calm demeanour, asked her if there was perchance a giant outside who wants to carry her off.

    ‘It is no giant, but is a disgusting frog. He rescued my golden ball for me when it fell down the well. And he gave me this beautiful blue rose’ she says preening and tilting her head to one side to show it off to full advantage. ‘What did you have to do for that? You don’t get owt for nowt’ says the king. ‘Don’t worry’, says the princess nonchalantly, ‘I just promised to love him, be his companion and play-fellow; eat and drink with him; let him sleep on my bed; and live in harmony with him. Nothing really.’

  3. Then the king said to the young princess, ‘As you have given your word you must keep it; so go and let him in.’ The princess sighed heavily, and dragging her feet across the floor, opened the door and let the still beaming frog in. The frog leapt across the floor, jumped on to the table and settled himself in next to the princess. ‘Now put your soup bowl nearer to me that I may eat from it’ the frog said, slurp, slurp, slurping and finally belching as he has had his fill of the soup. ‘Now I am tired; carry me upstairs, tuck me into your bed’ commands the frog, ‘and if you are lucky I will whisper sweet nothings to you.’

    The princess reluctantly did as she was instructed and the frog twittered in her ear all night.
    ‘I am three people.’
    ‘We are all in the same stinking, sinking ship.’
    ‘I love logs.’
    ‘I’m not playing word-games here.’
    ‘I have fun in my many hours alone with only an internet connection for company.’
    ‘I don’t know.’

    By the morning the princess’s head is spinning like a 45. This same scenario carried on for the next two nights though strangely the frog seems slightly different every night, but whispered identical sweet nothings to her. By the third morning the princess had truly had enough and lifting up the frog by its hind legs she swings it around her head and out of the open bedroom window. ‘Now will you be quiet, odorous frog,’ said she. The frog flew through the air, thumping into the king’s chest as he was returning from his early morning hike. The impact knocked the king off his feet and as he got his wind back he was astonished to see, instead of the frog, a man he thought he recognised from his past. ‘You,’ said the man to the king, ‘have broken a cruel charm put on me by a spiteful fairy that changed me into a smelly frog. It just needed a crack on the head to break the spell.’ ‘I’m touched’, said the king. His nose twitched, sniffing he adds, ‘you are fragrant’.

    And so our tale ends. The man looks forward to meeting the king again someday. The king does not really know what has hit him, but he can smell it a mile off. The princess clutches her golden ball tightly to her chest, her faded blue rose just a memory. The other two frogs unconsciously coupled and lived unhappily ever after.


    No amphibians were harmed in the making of this tale.
    Any resemblance to any dead or living real person is a coincidence.
    For the true and proper version of this fairy tale read ‘The Frog-King’ by the Brothers Grimm.


Mozziah Archive