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Saturday, 30 August 2014

Day 1081 - Basil Bush

There has been no sign of either Broken, St.Ill Moz or indeed Our Mozzer, so I shouldn't really be here writing, but old habits die hard, so for now I type on; although I will continue not to publish my blog.

I guess I just don't want to believe that we have come to the end of our phenomenal journey, and if I'm honest, I don't believe that it has ended, but maybe that's just wishful thinking on my behalf.

I genuinely believe that Morrissey has thoroughly enjoyed this interaction with his fans, and I have no doubt that he LOVES the BRS, so surely he won't let it die?

Despite The Arms being bereft of pessoas, a message has been left for me by Astraea (@Fadinggoldleaf), who yesterday tweeted, "@TheRatsBack I hope the cricket's cracking and that you're back here twitting around again after the weekend."

The Twitterdilly Arms may be dead, but twitter itself is abuzz, as Morrissey fans discuss the upcoming tour. The standing tickets for the O2 in London sold out within minutes, which just goes to prove that old Mozzer has still got it..... not that it was ever in doubt.

Whilst I wait to see if Morrissey returns to The Arms, I shall amuse myself with some parody writing:

(The scene is set in Morrissey's bedroom. It is present day. Morrissey is laying on the floor reading something on his i pad, whilst his trusty friend and band mate, Boz Boorer is reclined on the bed reading a magazine. Morrissey is giving out a series of tuts and huffs whilst shaking his head.)

MOZ: (Sounding surprised, and in a mocking tone) Life jacketsReally?

(Boz looks up from his magazine)

BOZ: Life jackets? What life jackets?

(Morrissey turns to Boz)

MOZ: Boz, I know that I can trust you to tell me the truth; you're not just a yes man like the rest are you?

BOZ: Er, no Moz. I mean, er, yes. No... no! What was the question again?

MOZ: Boz, is Basil Bush a greater icon of popular music than me?

BOZ: Basil Bush? Don't you mean Basil Brush? No, of course not, Moz.

MOZ: No, Boz, of course I don't mean Basil Brush; even I realise that I am just about more iconic in the pop world than a fox with a hand up it's jacksey, I am referring to her with the five hundred and thirty eight sold out nights at the Hammersmith Apollo.

BOZ: Oh, Kate Bush!

MOZ: Yes Boz, Basil Bush! Well, is she a greater icon than I?

BOZ: No Moz, of course she's not not. (There is a pause) What does icon actually mean?

MOZ: What do you think it means, Boz? And why did you say "no", if you didn't understand the question?

BOZ: Well whatever an icon thing is, you're a better one than Kate Bush. I mean a bigger one. Greater one even.

(Morrissey mutters "give me strength" under his breath, and rolls his eyes)

MOZ: I wish Broken were here; he would give it to me straight.

(Morrissey goes back to his iPad, and continues reading reviews of Kate Bush's comeback concerts at Hammersmith Apollo, whilst also watching video footage.)

(A minute  or two later)

MOZ: Boz, is Kate Bush a better song writer than me?

BOZ: No Moz, of course not.

MOZ: (suspiciously) Do you actually know any of her songs, Boz?

BOZ: Yes, of course. This Woman's Work is one of Lynn's all time favourites.

MOZ: (Giving Boz an icy stare) But surely it pales into insignificance when compared to say, All the Lazy Dykes?

BOZ: (Answering as quickly as he can) Oh yes, of course Moz.

MOZ: And she doesn't sing very clearly does she? You can't pick out all the words like you can with my songs.

(Boz doesn't answer, he has been distracted.)

MOZ: Boz, you aren't listening to me, are you? What are you reading?

BOZ: Sorry Moz, I'm reading Wines & Vines, it's a monthly magazine for wine makers; there's a really interesting article on compromised fruit.
(Morrissey reaches up to the table next to him, picks up a satsuma, and hurls it at Boz who manages to duck just in time. The satsuma thumps into the wall behind him and then drops down onto the bed.)

MOZ: It's no good Boz, I am only fooling myself. Old Basil may be unbearable and have a voice of trash, but she has pulled off a masterstroke in enigmatic otherness by disappearing from the stage for thirty five years and reappearing like this; we need to up our game, old son.

BOZ: Are you going to take a thirty five year break, Moz?

MOZ: Well it's a bit late for that now, Boz. I don't think the concert going public of 2049 will be queueing around the block to have a nonagenarian cough spittle all over them whilst wheezing out the words to Let Me Kiss You, do you? (There is a pause and Morrissey goes deep into thought) Of course what I should have done, was completely disappear in 1987 after, well, after you know who split the you know whats, and then I could have made a glorious return, just about now.

(Morrissey walks over to the window and stares out, as though in a dream)

The media and fans wouldn't be able to get enough of me, Boz. Record companies would be throwing themselves at my feet, offering me anything I wanted. All of my new singles would be topping the charts, and Justin Bieber would be begging to collaborate with me. Every new album of mine would go platinum within a week and the biggest and best concert halls around the world would sell out in seconds. Nobody would give a four X for Dread Sheeran, and old Basil's Before the Dawn would be left floundering in the dark.

(Morrissey pauses and comes out of his dream-like stare, but continues to look out of the window)

But I didn't disappear in 1987. Oh no, instead I have aimlessly wandered from one disaster to another. It's all your fault Boz; you and all those other two bit musicians who've encouraged me along the way to keep getting back on the stage. (Adopting an authoritative voice) "It's where you belong" you all said, "You're at your happiest on the stage" you all crowed, and yet what good has it brought me, eh? None! I drag myself up onto the stage night after night, after night, through illness after illness, after illness, all in the name of art, and yet nobody cares, and nobody thanks me. NOBODY! (There is a pause for a minute or two, as Morrissey once again stares out) And now here we are, with old Basil Bush casually wandering back into my industry after thirty five years of making strawberry jam in the countryside with Andrew Ridgeley, and suddenly the critics think she's a "legend" and an "icon". I have given and given and given and given, and for what? It just isn't fair Boz. (Morrissey turns away from the window and looks at Boz. Boz is fast asleep on the bed; a satsuma peel next to him.)


  1. Ironically, part of Morrissey's enigmatic otherness factor are the numerous cancelled shows and thwarted tours.

    PS: Well whatever an icon thing is, you're a better one that (than?) Kate Bush.

    1. Thanks for noticing the spelling mistake. Corrected.

  2. How did I miss this? Cheers Rats a parody is always welcome.
    Good to see you back agan.


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