Tuesday, May 16, 2006

A night in with Moz

So, I went and saw Morrissey on Sunday night at the London Palladium.

Incidentally, I had forgotten that my friend Suzie had bought me a ticket. Fortunately, I was saved by a phone call a mere hour beforehand that went a little something like:


And so I did.

Supported by the rather fab Kristeenyoung, the gig was jumping right till the very end, until the Moz, thinking the sound was bad (as was indicated by him constantly poking his fingers in his ears and wincing "How can you bear this?") hurled off his pink shirt knotted at the waist, made some typically Morrissey-esque statement, viz, "You’re all older than you think you are!" and stalked off stage in a big huff.

Expectantly, we all waited for an encore.

And waited.

And waited.

It was only after the roadies had collected the last rogue plectrum from the stage, clearing the way for, oh, The Boy from Oz or something, that we realised it was all over red rover.

Astonishingly, people even booed. And hissed!

A man in front of me quipped rather philosophically:

“Well, none of us would be here if he wasn’t such a moody old miserable bastard, now would we?”

"By jove, he's right!" exclaimed the maddening hordes (in unison).

And we all went home content in knowing that we'd gotten exactly what we wanted.


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