|
|
I seem to have an inordinate interest in stupid Mozzer questions... but...
why does Mozzer seem to have a fetish about leather car seats? ("and on cold leather seats, well it suddenly struck me" (that joke isn't funny anymore)
"why pamper lifes complexities when the leather runs smooth on the passenger seat?" (this charming man)
surely leather is murder too?!
ok, that's pretty stupid.
I once went to Morrissey's house, in Hale, Manchester, with a couple of mates. we walked there. he wasn't in. I am not proud to admit it, and I wouldn't do it now, but we stole his trash. turns out he was on holiday. and what was in his trash, you ask? well, yeast pills (from which one of my mates tried to ferment wine- Mozzer wine!), brown hairdye, some old photos, yoghurt...
also, in his front room, he's got a big pile of magazines with himself on the cover... ok, I'm sorry; like I say, it was many years ago, I got more respect for an artist's privacy now... if you're listening, sorry Moz... |
|
|