8 August 2018

The AA Meeting - Artistic Alliance

Setting - Morrissey mansions on a dirt road just off the A538. The seminal artiste is reclining on the settee from 1973 which two minutes previously had rather plump cushions. However, ham fisted Boz decided it was his right to sit his plump posterior on the seminal settee and render the pillows as flat as Amanda Holden's intellect. Despite news of ticket sales in Mexico and South America the seminal artiste is feeling rather glum.

Morrissey: Today is a rather blue day for me.

Boz: BLUE DREAMERS EYES Sir! Your new song. Sorry, lost old song.

Morrissey: No flies on you Boz, metaphorically speaking of course. Literally speaking I've noticed at least five flies and two bluebottles circling around you. Are you perhaps wearing eau de Gervais?

Boz: No Sir, it is Lynx Africa.

Morrissey: *spluttering* Jesus Christ Boz.

Mikey: That is a rather repungnant smell.

Morrissey: Oh Mikey, I almost forgot you existed, like the rest of Britain. Tell me, have you been keeping a chart?

Mikey:  Well for a while there did not seem to be too much to bother about. You see we’ve lost a few and gained a few, much like your weight.

Morrissey: Cheeky c*nt! 

Mikey: Well I will keep abreast of the replies on your twitter account but really to attain a rather more interesting dataset you should probably become more active...

Morrissey: *interjecting* ACTIVE? I am an international pop phenomenon, they should be lucky if I give them five minutes every second Sunday.

Mikey: *under his breath* International pop phenomenon, this isn’t 1992.

Morrissey: What was that Mikey, care to enunciate?

Saving Mikey’s bacon (Vegan variety), there is a noise at the front door.

Boz:  There’s somebody to see you Sir.

Morrissey: I f*cking know that Boz, the doorbell doesn’t ring on its own does it?

Boz: But Sir, you don’t have a doorbell, and you glued the letterbox shut, they knocked on the plastic bit.

The seminal artiste seems taken back by this comment and his jaw juts out spontaneously.

Morrissey:  I’ll have you know Boz, you contemptible c*nt, what you deem to be plastic is actually the finest glass this side of Leeds.

TRB: It certainly didn’t sound or feel like glass when I tapped on it.

Morrissey is once again taken back and slightly perturbed at the squealing and contradictions he has just heard.

Boz:  You invited this thing… Here?

Morrissey: I never invite him anywhere, he simply arrives. I think Mam has taken a liking to him. She lets him in and gives him my leftovers. He never eats them, just simply stores them in his coat pocket.  Anyway, please let Billy in.

Mikey: Is that the Billy I think it is?

Boz retrieves Billy from the front door and brings him in to the vast living quarters.

Morrissey: Ah Billy, extremely pleased you could make it to my humble abode.

Billy: Humble? Do you know nothing of the proletariat struggle?  Actually, perhaps you are on your last pennies. Why is there plastic in your door-frame? I didn’t realise it was this bad.

Morrissey raises his eyebrows and promptly returns them to neutral position.

Morrissey:  Actually Billy, its Leeds glass, it costs more, but I do support the British workers you understand, that’s why tickets to my religious conversion events are so cheaply priced.  Please excuse my bad manners, actually do not, but I must go and change. Please make yourself at home.  Although I have seen your home, stand right where you are and do not move.

Morrissey makes his exit.

Boz:  Bill, now that the Mozza has left the room...

Mikey lets out a guttural growl of impatience. Boz is taken aback as he assumed it was his stomach letting out the growl of gut growth. He rather apologetically puts his hands on his stomach as if to apologise.  However, Mikey is now standing up and taps Boz on the shoulder.

Mikey:  It’s the Seminal Artiste to the likes of you Martin, please do not forget it.

Mikey now follows the seminal artiste into his changing room.

Boz: Sorry Mikey, *turns to Billy*, now that the seminal artiste has left the room, would you like to have a game of Monopoly?

Billy: I don’t think so. I don’t believe in the capitalist construct of money.  Anyway, you know who owns all the banks don’t you?

Boz: Usually, its Morri… the seminal artiste. He holds all banks, hotels, and utilities.

Billy sighs.

Billy: No, its international Jewry. They own the banks, the media, the ground we walk on. They even own your record store.  It’s the reason I don’t have a bank account you know.

Morrissey: *coughing* Perhaps we could play Scrabble?  Boz, you can keep score since we all know you cannot spell.

Boz: Scores, yes sir, yes scores. I can keep scores. Billy was just telling me about international jury. I told him not to mention judges in your presence.

Morrissey rolls his eyes.

Morrissey: Billy, please take a seat at the French table, which is actually from Dagenham. As a socialist you should know the importance of supporting the struggling white working class?

Billy: Actually, my furniture comes from Ikea; they do a wonderful interest rate on credit. Anyway I’m from Barking...

Morrissey smiles thinly at this.

Morrissey: Well Boz, I think it is time you distributed the pieces.

Boz carefully unwraps the Scrabble board which is housed in a satin shroud and places it as carefully as he can into the centre of the French table.


Morrissey: Please be careful Boz, that didn’t come from a car boot sale you know.

Boz:  Sorry Sir.

Billy:  Do you treat all your band members like this Mozza?

TRB:  They’re not band members, they're lawnmower parts! Sorry for speaking out of turn but I just wanted to remind you I am still here and would be an excellent Scrabble partner. I can add an S to the end of a word to make it plural and steal all the points.

Morrissey: Oh f*ck off you complete idiot. 

TRB leaves, hastily, with tail between his legs.

Morrissey: Please continue Boz.

Boz begins to distribute the letters, Morrissey winks at knowing wink at Boz.

Boz: Do you have something in your eye Sir?

Morrissey scowls at Boz as Boz continues to distribute letters.  Morrissey stares at his letters aghast and pulls Boz close to him and whispers into his ear.

Morrissey: What the f*ck are you doing Boz? You know the letters I receive each and every time we play scrabble and the order in which to place them down into my tray.  M S I N A L E.  You have given be a Z! 

Boz: Sorry sir I simply forgot.

Morrissey:  Well I may simply forget to pay you.

Boz: I still haven’t been paid for the 2015 tour yet.

Morrissey releases his grip on Boz’s shoulder and turns to Billy who is taking an interest in anything other than the previous conversation.

Billy: Shall we start? You first or we could both lay down our pieces at the same time. That’s socialism!

Morrissey: That’s idiotic.  I shall go first.  Genius and beauty before... A c*nt.

A silence fills the room as Morrissey, the seminal artiste, the lyrical genius, an artist known for his immaculate use of words, struggles to play a word in the first two minutes.

Billy: Are you sure you don’t want me to go first?

Morrissey: F*ck off Billy, it just so happens I have a word.

Morrissey plays the Z he was incredulous about earlier followed by I, O, N.

Morrissey: Zion! I believe that’s 13 points.

As quick as Russell Brands commitment to not voting vanished, Billy slams his pieces onto the board and produces antizion.

Morrissey:  I’m sure that has a hyphen. Mikey, do you spell this word with a hyphen or without?

Mikey: The word Billy has played is incorrect.  Morrissey, you are correct as ever.

Morrissey looks at Billy with a smug smile that hides nothing and shows condescending intellect. Billy removes the pieces and re-arranges them by the I in Zion, and still plays anti.

Morrissey: What’s wrong Billy? Couldn’t think of another word?

Billy: Ya know how it is Mozza, you get an idea in your head and you just can’t get rid of it.

Morrissey: Yes quite. BOZ!  Did the drummer and bassist ever change their names to Rick and Bruce?  Oh, I suppose it doesn’t matter now.

Morrissey, almost absently minded, plays the two letter word Ad.

Boz: Sir, that’s only a two letter word.

Morrissey: I know Boz, but in my hands a two letter word is worth more than a seven letter word in yours.

Boz: Yes Sir.

Again, within seconds Billy plays O,L, F.

Boz: Adolf! Oh, sir you gave him an easy one there.

Morrissey: How was I supposed to know he would play that? Anyway Billy, how is Jeremy these days?

Billy shuffles awkwardly in his seat.

Morrissey: Silence is preferable. Ah, I spy an easy score.

Morrissey plays H, I, T on the top left of the board.

Boz: Very good Sir! Hit like World Peace would have been if it wasn’t for Harvest.

Mikey visibly recoils from the mention of Harvest.

Mikey:  I do not think that the Seminal Artiste needs reminding of that debacle Boz.

Billy interjects.

Billy: You can’t bloody do that, it’s against the rules.

Morrissey: Oh, so now a socialist wants to follow the rules. You couldn’t make this up!

TRB: That’s my line. I am influencing my idol!

Morrissey: Who the F*CK let you back in?  Anyway, I think this game is done, we all know what you were going to play next anyway.

Morrissey stands up and his lower half is covered in the Israeli flag.

Billy: Is this some kind of sick joke?

Morrissey: I didn’t bring up your recording career now did i?

Boz: HAR HAR Sir, very funny.

Morrissey: Thank you Boz.  Now Billy, I have asked you here to discuss your recent negative press.  Just what the f*ck do you think you’re playing at old son?

Billy: I was just stating the obvious, the Jews are to blame for everything. It’s why I can’t afford a conservatory.

Morrissey: I think there are more pertinent reasons why you can’t afford that.  Anyway, do you know how upset I was when I saw this news?  Not because of your criticism of the Jews but you took away my press! Do you know how hard I worked to become the number one trending topic on twitter? Do you realise how much work had to go back into getting people discussing me on Twitter and not you? You ruined my perfectly created storm.

Billy: You mean you don’t believe the things you were saying?

Morrissey: Now I didn’t say that…

This conversation is interrupted by the ringing of Mikey’s telephone.

Mikey: Sorry, I must take this immediately, it’s my publisher.

Morrissey: What the f*ck do you need a publisher for. You haven’t written a book since 1764.

Mikey exits the room.

Mikey:  Hello, Mikey speaking.

Caller: Hello Michael, this is Korda speaking.

Mikey slowly pulls the door to.

Mikey: Hello Korda, how are you?

Korda:  Fine.  I trust operation lock-in is still in operation?

Mikey: Yes.

Korda:  Good, have you managed to keep Morrissey away from any computer, laptop, or electronic device?

Mikey: So far, yes but I can see him looking longingly at his laptop however it appears to be at least 15 years old, so I wonder if it still works.

Korda:  Under no circumstances should he be allowed anywhere near it. Now I have to leave, Boy George is here, and he wants to take me to his favourite tea room.

Mikey: Farewell.

Korda: You fair well too.

Mikey re-enters the room and notices that the conversation has halted, and everyone remains in the same positions.

Mikey: Sorry.

Morrissey: Oh, you’re sorry. Don’t ever do that again, we have stopped and waited for your return. As you know I need a witness to my conversations and I can’t trust Boz to remember anything. Anyway Billy, despite this recent transgression I am offering you the chance of being in my little group. It is called International Stars Like Antagonising Media.  The joining fee is £500. 

Billy: £500? You must be mad.

Morrissey: Oh, I am completely insane, most interesting people are. Just so you are aware, you will not be leaving here without paying that fee.

Billy: Excuse me? That's fascist, that's just like Israel! 

Sam, Mam, R, Jesse, Solomon, Alain, Gary and Mando all arrive and block all exits. Mam is standing with a knife and a sieve ready to attack.

Mam: Billy, I need new curtains and I'm afraid I have expensive tastes.

Morrissey: You wouldn't let an old woman down would you?

Mam smacks Morrissey over the head.

Mam: Watch your cheek.

Morrissey: Sorry Mam. Anyway Billy, here is my card machine. 

Boz: Billy told me he doesn't belong to a bank Sir. It may have to be cash.

Morrissey: Cash is preferable, but I doubt this man carries any money at all.

Billy: Do you take Coutts card Morrissey?

Morrissey rolls head back and laughs. 

Morrissey: Oh, Coutts is certainly accepted. 

Billy promptly pays and is allowed to leave.

Morrissey: Nobody speak. Something Billy said earlier has prompted a sudden need to write. 

The room falls silent and 30 seconds later Morrissey begins speaking again.

Morrissey:   Head up his arse and he’s talking shite

Hates anyone with the audacity to be white
I don’t see why 

Barking billy barking billy
Oh, barking billy 

I love Sunni, I love Shiite on the bedroom wall
With always the need to fight and to kill every single thing

Barking billy barking billy
Oh, barking billy 

He’d live to convert but he’s afraid it might not work
He could say more, like how he supports Isis

Barking billy barking billy
Oh, barking billy

*Turning to Boz* Do you think that could be a hit old friend?

Boz: Oh, a hit certainly Sir, I will write the music now.

Morrissey whispers something into Boz's ear.

Boz: Right away Sir.

Mikey: Very successful evening. Should we retire to bed?

Morrissey: *drowning the last of a Boz poured double gin* The evening is young yet and so am I. Anyway, Boz has just connected the dial up, I haven't been on the internet in ages. 

Mikey: It's a cesspit though, we should either retire or play Monopoly. 

Morrissey: *reaching for the champagne* You can retire if you want but I have something to say to the world.

Mikey almost starts crying as Morrissey sits at his computer desk, checks the funds from Billy have entered his account and upon seeing they have begins typing.

"Dear Dave Hasbeen..."