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Tuesday, 27 March 2012

Following The Mozziah Day 195 Tuesday 27th March 2012

  (The setting is Manchester airport, approximately one week ago. Morrissey is coming out of the airport, accompanied by his bodyguard Liam. They have come through the V.I.P area and are exiting the building. Outside is a Mercedes 190 E, 'F' Reg and with a number of rust patches. Sat at the wheel is a woman who is probably in her early sixties, but it is hard to tell. She has peroxide blonde hair & a fag hanging from her mouth. She winds down her window and shouts to Morrissey).

WOMAN: (shouting to Moz) Paul, get in the car you soppy get, they're trying to move me on, it's a no waiting zone.
(Morrissey doesn't know the woman and ignores her)

MOZ: (to Liam) Where's my driver?

LIAM: (to Moz) I've just called him, he's just coming but there are a number of unauthorised cars blocking the route. This woman ain't helping, why's she shouting to you?

MOZ: (to Liam) I thought she was shouting to you, I didn't know your name was Paul, come to think about it, I'm not sure I've ever asked you your name, what is it?

LIAM: (to Moz) It's Liam sir, you did ask me once, perhaps you forgot, it doesn't matter.

MOZ: (to Liam) I don't tend to forget things, I've the memory of an elephant you know. I hope we don't have long to wait, the last thing I want is for people to spot me. If anyone approaches, keep them away, strictly no photographs or autographs today, I'm not in the mood.

WOMAN: (shouting to Moz) Oi, soppy draws, get in the bleeding car before I get a ticket.

MOZ: (to Liam) I do believe she's shouting at me, go and ask her what she wants.

LIAM: (approaches the car and talks to the woman) Why are you shouting at us?

WOMAN: I wasn't shouting at you, I was shouting at my dippy son, can't he hear me? Has that South American sea water affected his hearing?

LIAM: Your son? That's Morrissey.

WOMAN: Listen, he may have convinced himself he's Morrissey, but he's my son all right, and if he wants a lift, he'd better get in this car right now, or he can walk home.

LIAM: (walks back to Moz) She says she's your mum and says you'd better get in the car now or you can walk home.

MOZ: (to Liam) Me mam? She's nothing like me mam, and if she thinks I'm getting in that old rust bucket, she is wildly mistaken. Shoo her away.

LIAM: (walks back to car) Morrissey says please go away.

WOMAN: (shouting to Moz) Bollocks to you my lad, who the fuck do you think you are? This obsession has gone too far. And don't bother coming home for your tea, I'll give it to the dog. It was your favourite too, Margherita pizza from Marks and Sparks. I wash my hands of you Paul, you can think you're Morrissey all you like, in fact, why don't you go and bloody well move in with him, you obviously love him more than you love me. It's weird, that's what it is, weird. You dress like him, you try to look like him, you try to sing like him, well let me tell you something for nothing my lad, your version of Black Cloud is woeful, truly fucking woeful. (she flicks her finished fag butt towards Morrissey and screeches off).

(Morrissey's chauffer driven Mercedes S 500 pulls up in the space that has been vacated by Paul's mam. The chauffeur gets out and opens the door for Morrissey, who gets in to the back seat. Liam sits in the front passenger seat. As they start to drive away, Morrissey glances out of the window towards the terminal building, where 'Paul', the lead singer of Manchester's number one (self acclaimed) tribute band, 'Viva Morrissey', is coming out. He is wearing exactly the same clothes as Morrissey. He has been on the same flight back from Columbia, but in 'cattle class' and not 'first class'. He is looking around for his mother's car, but it is nowhere to be seen.)

(The next setting is the two up, two down, red brick terrace house in Manchester, belonging to Morrissey's mam, Betty Dwyer. It should be pointed out that the house is mortgage free. Morrissey's chauffer opens the car door to allow Morrissey out.)

MOZ: (to chauffer)  Please knock the door. (The chauffeur knocks the door) Thank you, now you can go. (to Liam) You are dismissed too, I will contact you if I decide to venture out of the house. Don't go far.

(Betty is sat in the front room playing hangman with Morrissey's musical director Boz Boorer.)

BETTY: (to Boz) Be a sweetheart Martin and open the door would you? It'll be our Steven, always losing his key that one.

BOZ: No problem Mrs D. (Boz gets up and answers the door)

MOZ: What are you doing here, can I not get away from you? I thought you'd gone to record your album, what's it called again, "Just A Spare Part"? Quite apt that. (smirks)
(Betty shouts from the lounge)
BETTY: It's my house, not yours, and Martin is a guest of mine.
(Boz makes a 'so there' face at Moz. They both enter the lounge)

BOZ: (to Moz) And for your information, it's called "Some of the Parts".

MOZ: How about "One of the Parts?" (laughs out loud)

BETTY: (raised voice) Steven, leave Martin alone, he's been playing me some of his songs, they're very good. I love the Glasgow one.

BOZ: That wasn't me Mrs D, that was The Raglans song I played you.

BETTY: You said it was your band.

BOZ: I meant 'my band' as in the band I produced, but my album is the other one I played you, the one with the song 'Slippery Forces', remember?

BETTY: I'm not senile Martin, of course I remember. I preferred the Glasgow one to the Slippery one, but never mind. (turns to Moz) Now, Steven, have you brought me anything back from South America? Martin has bought me back five teapots for my collection, one from each country you've been to.

MOZ: I was far too busy to think about tea pots, I've been creating.

BETTY: Messing about on that interweb thingy of yours more like, it's become an obsession, I thought you were going to stop doing it when on tour?

MOZ: How do you know I've been on the blog site?

BETTY: I 'do' know how to use the interweb you know, I've been having a look at your site, what's all this masonic nonsense, you know I don't like all that voodoo stuff, it's not normal.

MOZ: They're holding me back from getting a record deal mam.

BETTY: Utter nonsense, you're just not trying hard enough, now why don't you let me talk to these record companies, you know it's better coming form me, it looks desperate if you do it.

BOZ: I've been doing it Mrs D, he even let me call myself his official representative when I phoned.

MOZ: And what a balls up you made of it, if I hadn't put the phone down, God knows what you'd have signed me up for.

BETTY: Well Martin must know what he's doing, he's managed to get himself a deal, and the Raggylands. You should trust him Steven.

MOZ: With all due respect, Fabrique records is not exactly a High Street retro label now is it? It was bad enough being on Attack for all those years, if I can't get 'London' or 'Fontana', I just won't bother.

BETTY: Beggars can't be choosers Steven, if Martin can get you a deal at Fabrique, you take it, do you hear me? You've got a pile of post over there on the side board, (points to side board) bills mainly by the look of it. (Moz walks to the side board and picks up the post) I don't suppose there will be any invitations to dine with the Prime Minister or the Queen after all your silly remarks. Why you have to get involved with discussing the Falkland islands, I'll never know. No thoughts of the looks I get when I'm doing my shopping, oh no. It's alright for you standing on some stage in Argentina, lapping up the applause of the locals, but when I'm stood in the centre aisle of Iceland and all the other mother's are pointing and staring, how do you think it feels?

MOZ: (ignoring his mam's rant) What's this? (holds up a flyer for 'Viva Morrissey')

BETTY: I was given it in town, it's advertising your concert on April 12th in Leeds.

MOZ: Leeds? We haven't got any UK concerts lined up, you know I'm refusing to book any UK concerts until after the court case. If I lose that case, I will never, ever play in the UK again. I will never even set foot in this country again. Leeds? (reads the flyer) This isn't my band, this is the so called tribute band. This is the guy who was at the airport. Ah, now I get it, that was 'his' mam in the car.
(Betty and Boz look at each other questioningly.) Mother, how could you possibly have mistaken that man for me, he's nothing like me.

BETTY: Nothing like you, he looks identical.

MOZ: I give up, I really do. I slog my guts out, travelling half way around the world, just to keep a roof over our heads, and my own mother thinks I'm the lead singer of a Morrissey tribute band. I can't stand tribute acts, they're all dreadful.

BOZ: Chinese Elvis is good Moz.

MOZ: (not listening to Boz)You can't help but feel they are a subspecies.

BETTY: Steven! Don't start that again, Mrs Woo in the wool shop has only just started talking to me again, and that's only because I explained about the cats and dogs.

MOZ: What are you on about? I meant, tribute acts are a subspecies, not Chinese Elvis, although by definition, he is a tribute act, so technically he does fall into the subspecies catagory, but for his poor gyrating pelvis, not his race. Twisted lies, always twisted lies, please mother, don't 'you' fall into the trap that the others fall into. You're better than that.

BETTY: I just wish you'd think sometimes before saying these things. It's not just me that gets the looks, it's our Jacqueline too, and the boys.

MOZ: Am I to remain mute and have no thoughts? Can I not have opinions? Tony Blair can send our country to war on a whim and yet I am persecuted for protecting voiceless creatures? This world is not for me, this world is certainly not for me.

BETTY: And you can stop all that sort of talk. (There is a couple of minutes of silence) Are they any good?

(Moz is a dream like state and doesn't answer)

BOZ: Who?

BETTY: This Viva Moz?

BOZ: Oh, er, I've never seen them, but Moz did show me their version of Black Cloud on Youtube, it wasn't pretty.

(Moz snaps out of his trance)

MOZ: Come on Boz, as you're here, we may as well get on with the tour diaries for the blog.

BOZ: We haven't finished last year's yet.

MOZ: And who's fault is that Boz, who's fault is that? We need to inject some humour back into the blog, it's all gone a bit serious. I'm wondering if if wasn't such a good idea to do all the masonic signs, I don't think my fans like it, it might be a bit beyond them.

BETTY: It's your music they like Steven, your music. I do like your parody pieces though, does Russell write those?

MOZ: No he bloody doesn't, I'm far funnier than that old clothes horse, I bet he loves it that people think it's him. Bloody cheek.

BETTY: Language. There's no need. You don't swear in your songs, so don't swear here. Actually there was that one song about being dragged in the s-h-1-t, but I don't like to hear it. Go on, you two boys run along and play with your blog thing, I'll make us all some tea and toast.

MOZ: Thanks mam.

BOZ: Thanks Mrs D.




  1. Well dear Rat, you no need MW anymore! You're a brillant writer!

  2. Very comical indeed! But i agree that things do feel a bit more serious feelimg about them at the blog now. To say the least some people just don't think its funny anymore can't say i blame them we'll just see who gets bored first moz or his fatigued fans.

  3. Very funny post today. Had a flashback while reading the tribute band/Elvis part, one of my my brother's bands opened for an Elvis impersonator, who acted much like Moz does in your story, nobody was allowed near him, you had to communicate through his friend/bodyguard because he didn't want to lose the mood or'spirit of Elvis' he took on in order to perform. Enjoyed seeing you in chat room yesterday. Do you ever think 'The Girl Least Likely' will be played at the T Arms? That's the new tune I have playing in my head lately (it replaced 'Please, Please') Doesn't have to be in the top ten. I'll have to admit I agree with Zazie, MW had some nasty remarks on it today, esp towards some of the regulars-- must be the trolls again, the regulars were never like that, it wrecks the spirit of the site. Hope you had a good day. Keep writing you're very talented.

  4. Rats, I'm sure I have said it before, but you could write the script for a real Morrissey's World sitcom. I can hear the laugh track now, ha ha! I hope you are doing well, cheers!


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