Morrissey, autobiography

'I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour. But heaven knows I'm  miserable now'  Morrissey song.

 Is it miserable drivel? I say no, The Smiths' frontman can write, we know this from the music. The first hundred pages are best, we meet the sensitive, sickly child from 'streets upon  streets upon streets upon streets' (page 1) of inner city crumbling terraced Manchester. Family life is alright, there's piles of them;  most of clan Morrissey moved over from Dublin together and lived close by, becoming friendly with the English locals. No-one had money, 'a journey by car is as rare as space travel' (page 4). School is bleak and frightening and the decaying streets are full of derelicts, houses and humans.

His parents divorce and he battles for flagrant Bowie-esqe survival in the tough macho-testosterone  'hood. By p86 he discovers poetry, Walter de la Mare, Hilaire Belloc, Robert Herrick; individualism and tight rhyming. Lyrical influence.

When the Smiths tour there's the usual band stuff, gigs,recording deals, friendships and fallings out; the small, aptly named record label, Rough Trade. Autobiographies of stars suffer a quintessential problem, after childhood and coming of age, how to power up the 'star stuff' ? It's not a Morrissey problem, it's a star problem; band stuff, football stuff  either you dig the minutiae or you're out.

Morrissey's autobiography has not been in vain. Here in beef-to-the-heels East Devon I have  adopted his passionate belief that 'Meat is Murder'.After eating my leftovers I shall quit. Stephen Patrick will be pleased.