morrissey will not release so much as a yelp in the coming year.

many cups of cold tea will be drunk.

many tears shed onto many ancient and decaying oscar wilde books.

his waistline will expand and contract with the weather.

he will yet again spend his time stewing over a sticky court case,this time involving alleged cheese shoplifting from sainsburys.

he will win but get nabbed the week after with half-a-pound of stilton down his trouser leg.

at least one of his presentday friends wont be around this time next year.

he will embark on a small tour of wales.

and then cancel it.

he will leave his bag in new port pagnell.

the rising price of hairspray will see him create his own brand:
''mozmist super-hold,-it might let you down''

due to managerial woe[as usual]
this will be a financial disaster.

leaving him stranded in torquay,

stealing valium from the old folks home,

3 sheets to the wind on a stolen bicycle.

he will find love in an old bandstand and live there for the rest of his days,
hurling abuse at bemused passers-by,generally making a nusiance of himself,
drinking cough syrup from his lovers belly button in plain view of disgusted day-trippers and watching the sunset over the sea.

he will die with a smile on his face in the arms of the one he loves.
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