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Friday, 5 May 2017

Day 2159 - Bieber discovers the Smiths, more MW classics & words from Dawn

The MorrisseysWorld blog once pledged that Morrissey would wear a Justin Bieber t-shirt - for ironic purposes. It remains the only pledge from the MW blog not to have been fulfilled.

In a twist of fate, yesterday a photo emerged of Justin Bieber wearing a Smiths t-shirt.


The Morrissey pessoa, Broken, always said that it was just a matter of time before Bieber discovered Morrissey and the Smiths. In fact, Broken's Twitter profile back in 2014 read:

'A boy Belieber. I believe Justin has talent and will in a few years discover The Smiths. He will be the new Morrissey/David Bowie. Watch this space.'

Bieber has been a constant theme throughout the MorrisseysWorld journey; mainly because Broken had a huge crush on him, but I too made a rather bizarre and off the wall connection between Morrissey and Bieber, that involved Jean Cocteau and the Priory of Sion.

Those days and nights of Broken posting endless photos of a topless Bieber on Twitter are still etched on my mind. Broken even made me write a blog entry about Bieber, and forced me to post a 'Justin Bieber Shirtless Special'.

I have a feeling that this isn't the end to the Bieber/Moz connection. Will we see Moz in a Bieber t-shirt? Or could there even be a collaboration? As Broken said, watch this space.

Yesterday afternoon, we rather unexpectedly, and pleasantly, had the return of Morfessa to Twitter. We also had the return of Dawn Mist to the comments section of FTM. To be honest, I can see no difference between Morfessa and Dawn, and now conclude that they are one and the same. I actually think Morfessa only ever appeared on the scene because Dawn forgot her Twitter password!

Morfessa seemed to be in somewhat of a maudlin mood. Here are her tweets:

"I live in 1997."

"Lack of choice. Lack of sophistication."

backstage2.jpg (33166 bytes)

Heather was in just as maudlin a mood, and her replies to Morfessa triggered more maudlin comments:

"The future is just as bleak."

"Wanting to escape our own self-loathing?"

"We are trapped. Forced in this disordered society with the insufferable masses."

"Death ends everything."

And here is Dawn's rather poetic offering from yesterday's FTM comments. I'll be honest, I have no idea what she is going on about!:

A new veil for the new rules. The new attire for a new mistress. Mistrust and distrust. Truth and untruth. The lost years are lost only in name only, save yourself the burden of struggle and embrace the lost years with me. The journey of discovery is a discovery of the most personal. Pursue the purview. Years have gone and stored and lodged in the memory of all. The all fall and leave only temporary fragments of their reality. Things have happened and tried to happen again, almost but not quite. As predicted by myself, ourselves, yourself. A bitter pat on the back for us on that count. Our conscious is a metal bird trapped in a suffocating metal bird cage. I am the angel of the park. 

A boy downstairs in a bar rests his head on the chrome, all alone with wet and disgust pouring from every bone. Under a caliginous sky and in vague and ill-defined Cimmerian refines. I am spectacular and you may compare me to a crepuscular. My very nature is nebulous and my mind is obfuscous. I am a sepulchre of stygian, find me if you can stand the tenebrous blurred lines of your own mind. 

I spy with one eye howling dogs bark into the stark dark and see zero return for their efforts. An allegory there we feel. Archives once lost have come to our attention, no need to mutter or mention a thank you. Your thanks is muted as it stands. A personal archive holding treasures not yet seen and not ever to be believed. Do you believe? Will you believe? The taste of the pudding will reveal the answer. Relieved we are to say you can delve in or delve out. We make no recommendation. It is a personal choice. I do not care, do you care? Must I care? I do not care. Leap the lap of personal salvation, your boots so full of miles and sundials, and the journey is treacherous. Leeches remain leeching. Do you dare step from the comfort of the known? You are parasites. Do not feel sad at this revelation and revel in the fact we all are. Even I. The secret keeper of the regret reaper. Parasites of a fake society, knee deep in insects. Confirmers of doubtless and insurmountable woe. Woe and woe. Victim of self hatred and self esteem plummeting through ocean floors. Ocean doors do not open. No visitors in the watery grave. Cruelty over nurture. Poverty of enjoyment is what structures the order of the less ordered. 

When I was young, not that I have ever encountered a happy memory of youth nor an unhappy one, I was a boy where visitations were met with hesitations. I needed comfort and a chest to rest my head instead of the hollow bed. Christmas contentment which never comes is the dream we cling to and the dream we will die by. There is no contentment to be found with malcontent souls. Gratification will never come when we wait for it. Yet still I wait. An opportunity for untold drama and disaster is what I see. Do not forget that discomfort is either a condition of the brain or a condition of the thing less well thought of as a heart. Choosing will tear you apart. I ride in aeroplanes; you cannot find the strength to mount a donkey. Enough about me, tell me about you. I'm bored already. Stop. Stop. I implore you to stop. Please. Please. Please. Stop. 

And whilst I am on the subject of Dawn - our favourite lighthouse keeper - today is the 90th anniversary of the publication of Virginia Woolf's To The Lighthouse.


Yesterday evening, Morfessa took me into the toilets of The Wrong Arms and whispered into my ear, "there are five old MW articles I plan to publish at some point today."

Nothing appeared yesterday, but this morning Dawn (Ed - I said they were the same person!) has republished the 5 publications, which are all from May 2011. I am once again under strict instruction not to reproduce these publications on FTM, so I am linking to them and will quote the odd snippet:

1. Excerpt from the forthcoming autobiography. The Day Lady Gaga Met Me. Penguin classic, incidentally - 7 May 2011

The above MW classic was briefly referenced in The Wrong Arms back in January of this year, when Our Mozzer said, "He (Boz) still owes me £3000 for that meeting with Gwen Stefani."
The parody really is one of the best ones ever, and includes the following dialogue between Morrissey (M), Lady Gaga (G), Boz (B) and Justin 'Semi Precious Weapons' Tranter (J):

G:'Do I Know you?'
M:'I'm Morrissey.'
G:'Wow, and you're a fan?'
M:'Most definitely.'
G:'OMG. I heard 'That's Entertainment' when I was, like, seven.'
M:'Ah yes, you refer to the genius cover I did of the Jam classic.'
G:'Ummm, yeah, I guess? I thought you wrote it yourself. Let's get a photo. Is the fat gimp with the camera with you?'
M:'The one with a pot belly and 3 days' worth of stubble? No, never met him in my life. I heard someone call him Boz earlier, though. Hey, mate! Is your name Boz?'
B:'Yes. I'm Boz Boorer. Who are you?'
B:'I'm a huge fan.'
M:'Never a truer word... Perhaps you would take a snap of myself and Lady G? Now Ms Gaga, I don't normally do photos...'
G:'As you wish.'
M:'Well, let's not be hasty. I won't pretend to enjoy it though.'
G:'I don't want to put you through anything you won't enjoy.'
M:'I'll do it for you. You don't mind if I look a bit miserable and.... almost embarrassed do you? You know, it doesn't pay to look too enthusiastic in the rock world. Perhaps in your pop world, but not in my rock world. People might think I'd sold out if I looked all happy and everything. So I'll look a bit pouty and uncomfortable. If that's OK with you...'
G:'Do what you must. It's not every day Van Morrissey visits your dressing room.' 
M:'It's Steven.'
G:'Steven? I'm honoured. I'm Stefani.'
M:'Oh bollocks. I thought you were that tranny, or shemale, whatever she is.'
G:'You're kidding? I'm all woman!'
M(shouting):'Boz, hold that index finger. I am not having my photograph taken with Gwen f***ing Stefani. And who are you on my left? Someone ought to tell Gavin Rossdale. *squinting* Is that you, Gavin? Honestly didn't recognise you without my contacts. The makeup looks good on you, mind.' 
B:'It's too late Moz. Sorry. The pic's been taken.'
M:'You want something doing properly... Boz you're fast becoming a liability.' 
B:'I'm sorry, sir, really I am...' 
M:  sighs.
G:'I am Lady gaga.'
M:'Sure you are, hun. And I'm the Pope.'
G:'You've got me mistaken for...'
M:'Boz I think it's time for you to shout me a chickpea curry. Since I just paid £3000 for access to Gwen f***ing Stefani.'
B:'As you wish, boss.'

This was the piece that included a picture of Brand and Wossy depicted as Brady and Hindley, which NINE MONTHS later convinced RosyMires that Morrissey couldn't possibly be behind the MW blog - Oh, the logic of some people!

The parody takes a pop at Brand and Ross, following an interview between the two where they discussed Morrissey, and includes the following:

As things stand, it is a cause for shame, for self-contempt, for morbid self-reflection of the "what the f*ck did I do wrong to obtain toe-rag fans like these? kind. Surely they were heading for a Coldplay gig and got lost?

An ageing Alan Bennett in the front row, holding out a paw, nodding like a mole just sniffing the morning air, barely able to see me but filled with love and lust nonetheless; well, that would be fine. Or Ian McEwan propping up the bar, smiling during the chorus of 'The Girl Least Likely To.' But does any artiste really want a disheveled Wossy on stage with him? - or even afterwards when the lights are out? Or - horror of horros - Phil Jupitus with dirty socks stomping around the stage yodelling the verses of the poor, simple Ordinary Boys' only top 20 hit live at Glastonbury in front of a TV audience of millions? The answer is a resounding, "No!"

3. I Should like to disassociate myself from this website - 15 May 2011

This is a rather surreal MW blog entry disassociating Our Mozzer from his own blogsite! It was a parody follow-up to a TTY entry from the day before that disassociated the 'real' Morrissey from MorrisseysWorld.

Image result for morrisseysworld image

4. Let's see how you look when you're in your very late 40s - 17 May 2011

A picture entry:

5. Excerpt from the Autobiography. Chapter 1. subtitle: The first few weeks of life (Life begins at forty) - 19 May 2011

I so, so wish that I could reproduce this piece, it is an absolute gem, and the first paragraph about Morrissey's birth being difficult isn't dissimilar to what actually ended up in the real Autobiography.
Here it is:

Manchester's grey overcast skies, and its grey overcast people. 22nd May 1959. Post-war austerity, black and white television, a simpler era.  'Irony? Is that a new brand of washing up liquid, Mildred?' 'No, I think it's foreign though.' 'Oh well we don't want any of that stuff around here, then.' And thence, as though from another world entirely, emerges...  Steven Patrick Morrissey.
His jaw wouldn't quite slide out, of course, necessitating a forceps delivery; he had a headache for at least a week; popped out with a thud as his head crashed against the polished floor; start as one means to go on... and then perhaps the defining moment of his early life. The snip. By a  student midwife. Who didn't know how to distinguish the umbilical cord from the... 
Arguably the worst day of his life, with Finsbury Park a close second.
Image result for morrissey finsbury

Well, that's about it for today..... ooh, my type face has gone all modern! I have no idea how to change it - serves me right for cutting and pasting. Anyway, it doesn't really matter, as I doubt many people will find the time to actually read this blog entry, as everyone will be busy catching up on those 5 MW classics....although when I say everyone, there really are only half a dozen of us who either remember the original MW, or have any interest in reading them. They deserved such a wider audience.


  1. How could we be so lucky as to receive five gems in one day? My mind is still reeling from taking it all in. Still waiting to see that JB shirt...

  2. Dawns words were beautifully crafted & I learnt some lovely new words. But there were aspects which left me feeling off kilter. Maybe I'm being over sensitive & I'm over thinking. Maybe its my frustration, that I can not really grasp the meaning behind it.
    I don't even really know why I am saying this here because its probably of little interest to anyone. But its been bothering me.

    The new posts on the blog are most welcome & still feel as fresh & vibrant as when they were first published.

  3. on a weird point, must have been about 1984 I went to Sion to watch city in a pre season friendly, sadly I wasn't cultured enough back then to realise about history etc., anyone else remember Justin dressed as Moz with a quiff, jacket, glasses and beads.. aaw dear old broken, I do miss those sassy put downs..

  4. Chapter 1 is my favorite of Morrisseyworld, and on Autobiography he wrote about his big head, thanks Rat😘


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