lol

or was the writer a half-wit - that was the most poorly written piece of shit that I have ever seen

chipmunk version of ITMAAP?
Sick!

Surely there should be a full stop somewhere among all that!

I think it was very well written! Morrissey is a cantankerous old cow LOL It sums it all up pretty well: People always moan moan moan - whatever he does. Not enough of this, not enough of that, not as good as the old ones, lyrics are weak, the band is shit, etc.

I almost wonder if Morrissey wrote this? Surely he has reviewed it and added his input, at the very least. I like the fact that many of the complaints regularly raised around here are addressed head-on.

I thought this was particularly of note:

"His lyrics are getting simpler, at least for now, and briskly instructive, as if, this far into his life and his body of work, he has decided just to get on with it, brushing aside everything he might say but doesn’t care to."

What an un-morrissey like thing to say! I may be completely wrong of course but I don't think I have ever heard him speak like that.

This biography is extremely badly written. Who could have sanctioned it? It sounds like the pretentious outpourings of a sixth-former. Embarrassing, verbiose nonsense.

First of all I'm glad to see Morrissey on Lost Highway. They seem to be a classy outfit with several intelligent and thoughtful artist.

I think while it might be overly wordy the writer seems to have nailed Morrissey. At least closer to truth than most of the other half wit writers have tried.

This had to be put on their website with his approval.

Well it must be said, that the person, who, wrote this, piece of trash should be hung -- for their. miserable and improper use, of... punct;uation;! I mean, really now...

The quality of writing in the bio is similar to the juvenile, overwrought styles that occur on this site daily.

However, it's not as bad as the song reviews that Morrissey wrote for the inner sleeve of "Under The Influence." Writing dilettantes are easy to spot because they're generally obsessed with the use of adjectives, and metaphor. It's all flash, and no substance.

Of course, part of being Morrissey, or being a fan of Morrissey, is learning how to appear sensitive and intellectual without actually being sensitive and intellectual.

You then stay inside, in case anyone finds out.

This is an ATROCIOUSLY written piece, just shockingly bad English - trying to be clever, and failing miserably.

Surely Morrissey didn't sanction this trash?

. . .are you kidding?
. . .written by a Crashing Bore.

This reads like Paul Morley.

The long sentences, the numbering.

In fact I'd bet everything that this IS a Paul Morley biog.

This is a pretty unrevealing read until the last paragraph when you get the appealing image of Moz running down the road in Piccadilly in search of his Welsh Rarebit (fancy cheese on toast for those who don't know!) and queuing up in a cafe behind various old ladies and tourists...i can just picture the scene, Bless!

So, whoever wrote this 'bio' was invited for a pint at some discreet hostelry with Morrissey plus 'minder'.

"I had no choice" states Morrissey. Calmly.

The 'biographer' then drones on incessantly about how 'important' Morrissey was/is. And how ineffably 'mysterious' he is, just like a box of Leonidas chocolates. All the ususal nonsense.

Morrissey puts 50p in the juke-box on the way back from the loo, but the stalker-journo doesn't even 'get it' as the sombre voice continues to moan, barely audible above the thrum of lunch-time financiers:

"I was born like this, I had no choice.
I was born with the gift of a golden voice,
and twenty-seven angels from the great beyond,
they tied me to this table right here in the tower of song."

So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll
- I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all."

This song continues, ignored by the 'biographer', only to followed by the latest (C)oldplay catastrophe. An agitated Morrissey again repeats this simplest of statements. Biographer ignores the simplicity of it all and goes off at various irrelevant tangents. Again.

Morrissey flees, chased by brainbox biographer. Scene ends with Morrissey taking indigestion remedy after another cerebral lunch with a fan/journo/stalker/biographer/general whack-job. Delete as applicable.

So did this writer have the privilege of meeting Morrissey and mate?

Did Morrissey run into an upmarket cafe? in Piccadilly??

I was once told by a journalist that one needs to get to the point a story. I'm glad it was written for the interweb as that means at least 20,000 trees have been saved from turning into adverbly adjectively metaphors. Oh and change the font.

ROCK ON TOMMY

If left to some people who take an interest in his career around here, he could just as well forget about promotion.

James Joyce wouldn't have stood a ghost of a chance here with his fresh copy of Ulysses.

"Fools rush in, so here I am".

That was different enough to be endearingly enduring.

Thanks.