My my has it been a year already? the day i had a fourth row seat for one Steven Patrick Morrissey, St. Pat's, Pittsburgh, fucking hell, it's taken me this long to digest just what a brilliant night it was, a beautiful spring day, me being stricken with a cold and yet such a fanboy that i drove by the venue just to see if his bus was there... and it was, and the rest the day was spent in restless anticipation of the show being cancelled at the last minute, something he'd done twice before in Pittsburgh and then at 7pm or so i left my house and drove to Oakland, parked and met the Hassler for a few pints of Guinness to help ease the cold symptoms, followed by a couple of pills to ease the pain, then a finely rolled pinner for the short walk to the venue and then more beers as i chatted with some lady friends and waited for the bells to chime...
And then the bells and the place, a city, that had waited 20 years for this return went fucking ballistic as he walked out singing This Charming Man, me so close i could almost touch him, singing along until my voice was gone, dancing and sweating and hugging strangers, the highlights, well i could say the whole fucking thing but at one point he sang Death of a Disco Dancer followed by Seasick, Yet Still Docked followed by Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself and it was brilliant... of course though i can't leave the house without some trouble and...
towards the end of the show there was a man behind me taking pictures, a cat i'd seen around the east end, an aging hep cat, an Irishman in a leather coat who is a dead ringer for General Zod aka Terence Stamp, i offered to let him jump a row to get some pix and when i did the only people who didn't seem to be having a good time, the couple next to me, took offense, i leaned over to explain and the girl started berating me and telling me i was an ass and don't bump her and blah blah blah, i explained that it was a rock-n-roll show and that she should lighten up and then her and her boyfriend started whispering and giving me the stink eye and bumping into me and telling me to move, of course i tried to take it all in stride but they were just assholes and i was a bit bombed and when i noticed her purse on the floor i did what any drunk bastard would do and i accidentally free kicked it about 20 feet, yes it was a dick move but really this was a rock concert not the ballet and their behaviour in my neanderthal eyes was unacceptable, of course she screamed and said that was my purse and i smiled and said it was? why would you keep it on the floor at a rock show and then of course there was much whispering and conferring and moments later she spat out we're leaving and i replied have a nice night...
As they gathered their things and made for the exit they had to slide past me, her boyfriend who decided it was a must to defend his maiden's honor let his girl get to the end of the aisle and then stopped as he passed me and spat out, have a nice night ASSHOLE!, now here's a suggestion to boys in pink polo shirts, when accosting a 6'4 inch drunk maniac be very careful, of course i didn't want to get thrown out so instead of head butting the self satisfied half grin/ half snarl off his face i let him savor the moment briefly before putting my arm out so he couldn't pass and stating, take you're little piggy home before you get hurt you cunt! all while being menacingly polite, he ran to the end of the aisle and he and his girl told the bouncer who looked at me while i smiled and waved then he laughed at them, they in turn stormed out, i didn't really feel to badly about acting like such a cock but on the off chance they read this, sorry kids but you really need to relax...
the night wound down and Mozza belted out First of the Gang to Die, the house lights came up, i walked out elated and bought my t-shirt and then chatted to my lady friends as we adjourned to the bar to have a drink, one of whom is a beautiful singer/ guitarist with incredibly blue eyes, at the bar as we discussed the merits of the show, she began to discuss how sexy Morrissey was and how so many men these days lacked that quality, then she turned looked me straight in the eye and stated "you though, you are fucking sexy", to which i may have blushed and was left speechless which is something that rarely happens, it was around this time that all my medicines began to take their toll and i had one last cig and headed home, a great night indeed... The next day i phoned in sick to work. Mozza massacre complete.
there are undercurrent qualities in you that are not unlike those of my favorite fictional protagonist ever, Jack Reacher.
you know, that sounds like a perfect night - right down to delivering a nice virtual kick in the arse to the uptight yupsters at the concert!
yes. Morrissey oozes sexy.
That he does.
And what's with those people? Leaving a Morrissey concert before it's over? Travesty! they didn't deserve to be there in the first place
You lucky SOB! What I wouldn't give to even see Morrissey walk across the street.
And bitchy preps are always at shows complaining about how rowdy the crowd is. I honestly don't know why they go to these shows in the first place. It's obviously not to have fun...
Daisy - on further reflection it was a banner night right down to my Beckham like free kick.
Twin - i concur
Nurse- exactly, they should have given the ticket to someone who actually wanted to be there instead of filling up two seats cuz they thought it was the cool thing to do.
Nine-uh - that's twice now i've seen him and if you get the chance i highly recommend it, you should check out the Importance of Being Morrissey documentary, you can see it on Youtube, came out a few years back but it's fucking excellent.
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