And you never showered again.
It’s like you’ve fallen into one of Morrissey’s DIY man-traps and he’s deliberating over how to make a ’50s bowling shirt out of your skin.
We all know that Mr SP Morrissey of Salford, Manchester, is a kindly, bespectacled gentleman who enjoys nothing more than a nice cup of Darjeeling, a George Formby record on the wireless and a lap full of kittens rescued from the North of England Kitten Sausage Refinery.
But sometimes… just sometimes…where by chance those thick, wolfish eyebrows knit together at a precise angle of malevolence…
Morrissey looks like a serial killer.
