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Wednesday, 6 June 2012

Following The Mozziah Day 266 Wednesday June 6th 2012

Having read all the bollocks on Solow about Matt Walker's departure, and having just watched a Mike Joyce interview on the internet, I am feeling inspired to write a parody piece, but not today, as I have been in too much of a bad mood. I may write it tomorrow. I would like to apologise for the unprofessionalism of walking out half way through the chart rundown, but I really am feeling moody at present.

So, I may or may not write something tomorrow (it really depends on whether the cricket is called off, and if I can be bothered), but in the mean time, here is a 'FollowingTheMozziah' classic from the archives. First published on January 27th. Enjoy.

(This is a film script for a parody of both the story of Christ, & The Life of Brian, but mainly the Life of Brian. It was going to be called 'The Life of Steven', and I even toyed with 'Carry On Following The Mozziah'. In the end, I chose the obvious! )


(The scene starts with three wise men riding on camels, following a star. They arrive in Bethlehem, at a block of stables, but just as they are about to dismount, one of the wise men notices that the star is still moving. They get back onto their camels and start to ride off, much to the bewilderment of Joseph & Mary and their next door neighbour, Mandy, mother of Brian. As the wise men ride away, they are shouted at by Joseph, Mary & Mandy, who are yelling that their child is the 'Messiah', the 'chosen one' etc. The wise men ignore the shouts, flying frying pans etc and continue to ride away, following the star. As the scene ends, we see Mary and Mandy fighting, as first they argue about which of their babies is the Messiah, and then whose frying pan is who's. (The dialogue for this scene can be made up in your own head, please make it amusing, in fact, if you can be bothered, add some dialogue in the comments section at the bottom of the page.)

The wise men's journey takes them forward through time, via various historical events and places, such as ancient China, Greece, Viking invasions and World Wars, all the time with the star shining brightly and moving ahead of them as they continue riding their camels, much to the bewilderment of the various historical figures. The wise men are also seen riding up the yellow brick road, and then through somebody's front door, up the stairs, into a bedroom, and through a wardrobe door into Narnia, where they ride around in circles through the snow, before going back through the back of the wardrobe, back down the stairs, and back out of the front door. Eventually, the wise men get close to their destiny, they have been riding now for nearly two thousand years, and they are looking a little weary.

It is Summer 1982, the wise men are in Stretford, Manchester. As they ride their camels down the middle of a busy road, holding up all the cars and traffic, they ride past a boy, in his late teens, walking along with a guitar. The third wise man grabs the boy, who tries to fight him off, and sits him on his camel. The three wise men then turn into Kings Road and stop. It is 2pm.

WISE MAN 1(WM1): (In Welsh accent, don't ask me why, but I have decided to make all three of the Wise Men Welsh, I just have, it's my story, so I can do what I like! It is imperative that you read them in a Welsh accent though!): Well what house is it then? They all look the bloody same to me?

WISE MAN 2(WM2): It's the one beneath the star of course.

WM 1: Star? That's the sun you twat, it's not a star!

WM 2: The sun 'is' a star, and don't call me a twat, you twat.

WM 1: No it's not, it's a bloody planet I tell you.

WM 2: I'm telling you boyo, it's a star, and anyway, whatever it is, or whatever it isn't, we've been following it for nearly two thousand years and I for one, ain't going another bloody yard.

WM1: Well I can't tell which one of these houses is below the bloody thing, the whole road looks to be below it.

WM3: We could always try a bit of door to door, see if anybody thinks they might have a special baby?

WM 1: No way, no bloody way. I ain't doing that, we'd look right twats, we're supposed to be wise men, not bloody duster salesmen. Are we even sure we're in the right place, I'm sure the star seemed to stop over that house belonging to that David Icke fella?

WM 2: No, it's definitely here, it's written in the scriptures (gets a screwed up piece of paper out of his pocket and reads from it) "The Mozziah shall be found under the star, in the road of Kings, Stretford, Manchester, England, M32 8GW, summer nineteen eighty two, just after lunchtime". Yep, we're definitely in the right place.

WM 3: Are you sure it doesn't say under the 'stair', not star?

WM 1: That's Harry bloody Potter you twat, it hasn't even been written yet! Didn't you hear him?, this is nineteen eighty bloody two!

BOY ON CAMEL: Er, excuse me?

ALL THREE WISE MEN: (curtly) What?

BOY: Who is it you are looking for?, I know a few people around here.

WM 1: Not that it's any of your business, but we are seeking The Mozziah, he is the chosen one, the one who has come to save us from ourselves, or something like that anyway. The Mozziah, it is said, has the voice of a thousand dying nightingales and the words of the mixed up gods. Or was it screaming crows and howling dogs? Either way, we've got to find him.

BOY: You must mean Morrissey, I was just going to call for him too, I'd heard something similar but not quite in the same way you just said, I was just told he could sing and write a bit. It's number three hundred and eighty four.

WM 2: Well why didn't you say beforehand? What's your name boy?

BOY: Johnny Maher, spelt M-A-H-E-R but pronounced Marr, I'm thinking of changing it anyway.

WM 2: Well come on Johnny Maher pronounce Marr, don't just sit there, let's go.

(The wise men, with the boy ride up to the front door of number 384)

WM 1: Wait a bloody minute, 384 Kings Road Stretford? That address rings a bloody bell.

WM 2: I wish you'd ring the bloody bell, my arse is killing me after all this camel riding and I could murder a cup of tea.

WM1: 384 Kings Road is where I sent my subscription fee to join The Cramps fan club, I never heard another bloody thing. Bloody cheek, I want my two quid back from this Mozziah fella.

WM 2: Come on. (Rings the doorbell and pushes Johnny Marr to the front)
 (There is no answer so WM 2 pushes the doorbell again. There is still no answer)

WM 1: Oh fuck this for a game of soldiers, let's go down the pub, I'm bloody gasping for a pint.

WM 3: It's ten o'clock in the morning, you can't have a drink yet.

WM 1: Call yourself a Welshman bach? You should be ashamed. Anyway, it's two o'clock, not ten, you twat.

WM 3: I'm not Welsh.

WM 1: What do you mean you're not bloody Welsh? You're more bloody Welsh than Dylan bloody Thomas.

WM 3: I'm from Chester.

WM 1: Ooh lardy bloody dah. Well Mister "I'm from bloody Chester", how about you get us into this fucking house, so that we can do a bit of praising, and then I can fuck off down the pub, and you can fuck off back to fucking Chester?

(WM 3 Presses the doorbell but there is still no reply. WM 1 pushes him out of the way.)

WM 1: Duw!, let me do it. (He presses and then leans on the button so that it rings continuously. As he is doing this, a woman walks up the path to the door, she is carrying shopping bags).

MUM: (strong Irish accent) Who in Chroist's name are you lot and what do you want? (crosses herself for taking the Lord's name in vain).

WM 1: We are three wise men.

MUM: Well it doesn't seem very woise to me, leaning on moy doorbell at two o'clock in the afternoon, now, bugger off!

WM 2: We are astrologers, we have come from the East.

MUM: Moss Side eh? I moight've known. Off you go, we don't want your type around here thank you very much, this is a respectable neighbourhood. Ioi've worked moy fingers to the bone to get accepted around here, and Ioi don't need the loikes of you tainting our reputation. (She ushers them down the path and notices the camels feeding on her flowers) Bee Jesus, what in Chroist's name are those?

WM 2: They are camels bach.

MUM: All roight Mister smart arse, I know what they are, I meant, what are they doing feeding on moy bloody chrysanthes? (starts shooing the camels away). Go on, all of yer, bugger off.

WM 1: We've come to praise the infant, we must pay hommage to him.

MUM: Infant? What infant? Bloody Moss siders, I know your game, you're just trying to get into my house and then, vmmph, you'll ramsack the place. You must think I was born yesterday, what is it you're after, drug money? Well you've come to the wrong place, well unless you're looking for trouble, in which case you've come to the roight place, cos I'll tell yer for nothing, trouble loves me, so it does, it seeks and foinds me. Now feck off before I call the Garda.

WM I: No, no. We must see him, we have been led by Star.

MUM: Led by bottle more loike, go on, shoo.

WM 2: But we have brought presents.

WM 1: (Handing over a large, framed, gold disc of the album, 'The Queen is Dead' to Mum) 'Gold'!

WM 2: (Handing over the sheet music of 'Our Frank' to Mum) 'Frank nonsense'!

WM 3: (Pushing Johnny toward Mum) 'Marr'!

MUM: (taking the gifts) Well why didn't you say?, come on in, I'll make you all a noice brew, but I still don't know who you're looking for, there are no infants here, just me and our Steven.

WM 1: Can we see him?

MUM: If you loike, follow me, he'll be in his room, he's always in his room.

(All five of them go upstairs, where mum knocks on a bedroom door).

MUM: Steven, you've got some visitors.
(There is no response, so mum opens the door and they all trudge in to see a man, in his early twenties, curled up on the bed in a fetal position. His eyes are closed.)

WM 1: Wow, he's a biggun isn't he?

MUM: So, you're astrologers are you? Well what is he then? What star sign is he?

WM 3: He's a Gemini.

WM 1: They say Gemini's have intellectual and active minds, always searching for information and then sharing it with those they love.

MUM: Anything else?

WM 2: He is The Mozziah, the real and proper poet laureate, king of the oppressed.

MUM: And that's Gemini's is it?

WM 1: No bach, that's just him.

MUM: I was going to say, otherwoise there'd be a lot of them!

WM 3: Katie Price shares his birthday you know?, actually that's a thought, you don't think she's the chosen one do you?

WM 2: Don't be bloody daft man, the prophets say that in a few years from now she will enter a song for Europe, I've already seen it, fucking dreadful it is.

MUM: Oi, language, please!

WM 2: Sorry bach, but truly it's dire.

WM 3: (To mum) By what name are you calling him?

MUM: Er, Steven, I named him after me favourite saint, but it's spelt with a 'V', not a 'ph', Oi foind 'ph' is far  too common. Moind you, it's wasted either way, he's stopped answering to it, says he just wants to be called Morrissey.

ALL 3 WISE MEN: We worship thee oh Morrissey, while lord over of us all, praise unto you Mozziah and to the lord our father, ahmoz. (Morrissey remains asleep through everything).

MUM: Chroist, is that the toime? You're going to have to go, I have a lot to do before I can settle down to watch Frank Bough and Nationwoide. (She starts to push the wise men out of the door, but leaves Johnny standing looking at Morrissey.)
 (When mum and the wise men have left the room, Morrissey opens one eye, and then the other. He sits up, all the time keeping his eyes fixed on Johnny. He then stands up and starts to 'inspect' Johnny. He walks right around him and runs his fingers aimlessly over the strings of the guitar that is still hanging from Johnny's neck.

MORRISSEY: Nice shoes, can you play that thing?

MARR: Nice hair, can you sing?

(The scene immediately ends and 'This Charming Man' starts playing (very loudly) as we go straight into the opening credits.) TO BE CONTINUED.


  1. Just to update you, today is day 163 for me following the 'Following the Mozziah Blog. Enjoyed the one today, even if it's a repeat. Have they made it into a movie yet? Stage play would be fine also, that's how Oscar began. I was also bummed out by Moz losing his drummer, as I am sure most of his fans were, especially as he is in middle of a tour. I hope he has some idea as to a replacement. I'm sure anyone of his fans would offer to fill in--if they played drums. As for me, musically I can only play records, radio or CD. How about you Mr Ratty? Any good on the skins?


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