A lowbrow from the comments section certainly isn't a fan, whilst however sounding a bit too well versed.
"Morrissey's great tragedy is his complete lack of self awareness. This ageing whiny solipsist who went from inadequacy to bathos and back again, then spent his entire career wallowing in his own victim-hood in a failed attempt at passing himself off as a bargain bin Oscar Wilde and novelist. Then in order to stir up a little controversy to ignite a fading career he posed as a White Nationalist. Of course some dimwit will be along shortly to explain why Morrissey's tackless outbursts regarding Arabs/Chinese/reggae music is merely post-modern irony that I don't get?!! Many years ago Eric Clapton's inflammatory racist outburst caused mass revulsion and the creation of 'Rock Against Racism'. Now we have to accept that a middle aged, ersatz artist - who displays all the symptoms of an emotionally dysfunctional narcissus - is to be praised for producing an autobiography/novel in an unironic prose style parody, of a late 19th century aesthete, as if written by a 4th former with learning difficulties.
Morrissey at best is nothing more than a mediocre lyricist an even worst novelist, whose stage moves resemble an uncoordinated crab wetting itself, with a voice that owed more to a chicken in a basket variety club entertainer than rock 'n' roll. He is the perfect incarnation of a third rate pub performer, from the 1950's - shirt slashed to the waist - retro medallion man for a generation. Oscar Wilde must be turning in his grave every time this overweight balding buffoon opens his mouth. Doggerel that passes for profundity, style that owes more to Gary Glitter than James Dean. A narrow minded, ill educated ingrate, that spawned a generation of attention seeking inadequates with an Oedipal complex.
His epitaph will surely read, "Exploding kegs between my legs"!!? Morrissey must have copied that off a lavatory wall while cottaging for inspiration - possibly the worst line in pop music, now only surpassed by, "'being dwelt in' causes cries of intolerable struggle, but our closeness transcends such visitations"- Dear God!!!
Send Morrissey back to where he belongs third on the bill to Punch and Judy on the end of Brighton Pier. Morrissey to paraphrase his idol Wilde - Has nothing to declare but his verbal incontinencey pads."
Touche.
