Me too.
As your PM, I am going to be your servant, I am going to have tea with King Charles at our weekly talk, and then I am going to resign the day after, which will provide me with £144.000 annual allowances paid with tax payers' money. Sounds like win-win deal to me.
The turnover's so fast we might miss the turns of you and Morrissey in no. 10! (though hardly)
But the hot seat goes for now to Rishi Sunak, huh? The best of a bad lot, from what I know, but still among ‘all the carnivores and destructors’ whose redundancy is becoming clear. Anyone else feeling jittery? Just when we’ve put a run of foot-in-mouth episodes behind us, along comes a one-time red rag.
I’ve been listening to Viva Hate –Margaret on the Guillotine as much as Bengali in Platforms. An album of substance.
I first saw Morrissey live at Dublin Castle in 2004, after You Are The Quarry came out, when he made an off-hand comment on learning Ronald Reagan had just died, which within days made major headlines critical of him and resulting in death threats against him. There was absolute pandemonium. I felt then he was admirably opposing war and conservative corporate government, and that’s when I came across Morrissey-solo.
If he could ignore the revolving door of backscratchers at number 10, wouldn’t it do for him and us, if we like, to consider himself prime minister of his own constituency?! Remember this t-shirt?
Otherwise, barring oblique references, civil war may resume in Mozland, with all the strain and the pain again, renting the happy veil. What would we do then?
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