Most treasured Smiths or Morrissey item

I have nothing anymore. I gave everything away.

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Not sure what my most treasured piece is, think ive sold most of them. But probably a signed BMSA by Morrissey. There's a few pieces of vinyl i value more than others, like the Hong Kong LP and That Joke 12'' from the Philippines, which i have recently acquired.
 
My memories, and Strangeways and Viva Hate record store promo posters that were fished from a dumpster. It was shocking to see pristine Morrissey posters peeking out at me when I went to throw out the trash.
 
I have nothing anymore. I gave everything away.

I want to tell you the story of this.

My first job was at the UK's largest cotton dye-house. I was under the tutelage of Stan. He instilled in me a love of chemistry, a love of the non-stochastic, to question voices of doubt, and above all, to believe in science, fact, and the immutable beauty of mathematics. Stan had a son, who married, and they had a daughter - a grand-daughter to Stan. I took over from Stan when he retired looking after all technical functions. After a while, I was enticed away to the chemical side. The mill closed (I found out later that my wife had handled the sale, but she couldn't tell me), and that was that.

Some years later, in a band, I used to go play snooker with Dave, who was in the band, at a club near where he lived. I remember one day a chap watching us while we played. I looked over - I was sure I knew him, but couldn't quite place him. I saw him a few times there.

Fast forward again to two years ago. I was leafing through the paper, and saw Stan's funeral notice. It hit me hard, I didn't talk to him after I left the mill, but I owed him so much. I got in touch with the funeral director, and sent a letter to his widow.

Some time later I got a call from Stan's daughter-in-law. The letter never got through to his widow, as she had died the year before. As had Stan's son. Which left only Stan's daughter-in-law and granddaughter. She told me Stan had lived in a nursing home around the corner from the snooker club, and he used to go in regularly. So I did know who it was.

I met up with Stan's daughter-in-law. We looked over some old photos. She told me how the year had hit her daughter, let's call her 'K', very hard. She said that she was a budding musician, and a Morrissey fan. I told her they should come to my house. She phoned K up, and about 30 minutes later, they arrived at my house. I showed her all the CDs and vinyl, bookcases full of books and magazines, other zines, music books, and so on.

I looked at K and said 'take it - it's all yours'. She leapt up and gave me a hug. We filled the car with everything, and off they drove.

We've kept in touch.
 
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Reckon me have a half eaten taco from 1998. I got it from Veggie Taco Tuesday at The Sunset Marquis. I have it frozen in me fridge. He was there with lil' Sammy when he just a weee lad.
 
I want to tell you the story of this.

My first job was at the UK's largest cotton dye-house. I was under the tutelage of Stan. He instilled in me a love of chemistry, a love of the non-stochastic, to question voices of doubt, and above all, to believe in science, fact, and the immutable beauty of mathematics. Stan had a son, who married, and they had a daughter - a grand-daughter to Stan. I took over from Stan when he retired looking after all technical functions. After a while, I was enticed away to the chemical side. The mill closed (I found out later that my wife had handled the sale, but she couldn't tell me), and that was that.

Some years later, in a band, I used to go play snooker with Dave, who was in the band, at a club near where he lived. I remember one day a chap watching us while we played. I looked over - I was sure I knew him, but couldn't quite place him. I saw him a few times there.

Fast forward again to two years ago. I was leafing through the paper, and saw Stan's funeral notice. It hit me hard, I didn't talk to him after I left the mill, but I owed him so much. I got in touch with the funeral director, and sent a letter to his widow.

Some time later I got a call from Stan's daughter-in-law. The letter never got through to his widow, as she had died the year before. As had Stan's son. Which left only Stan's daughter-in-law and granddaughter. She told me Stan had lived in a nursing home around the corner from the snooker club, and he used to go in regularly. So I did know who it was.

I met up with Stan's daughter-in-law. We looked over some old photos. She told me how the year had hit her daughter, let's call her 'K', very hard. She said that she was a budding musician, and a Morrissey fan. I told her they should come to my house. She phoned K up, and about 30 minutes later, they arrived at my house. I showed her all the CDs and vinyl, bookcases full of books and magazines, other zines, music books, and so on.

I looked at K and said 'take it - it's all yours'. She leapt up and gave me a hug. We filled the car with everything, and off they drove.

We've kept in touch.

You are a good man skinny, that's a touching story.
No point bothering with those who don't understand you, they just never will.
 
I want to tell you the story of this.

My first job was at the UK's largest cotton dye-house. I was under the tutelage of Stan. He instilled in me a love of chemistry, a love of the non-stochastic, to question voices of doubt, and above all, to believe in science, fact, and the immutable beauty of mathematics. Stan had a son, who married, and they had a daughter - a grand-daughter to Stan. I took over from Stan when he retired looking after all technical functions. After a while, I was enticed away to the chemical side. The mill closed (I found out later that my wife had handled the sale, but she couldn't tell me), and that was that.

Some years later, in a band, I used to go play snooker with Dave, who was in the band, at a club near where he lived. I remember one day a chap watching us while we played. I looked over - I was sure I knew him, but couldn't quite place him. I saw him a few times there.

Fast forward again to two years ago. I was leafing through the paper, and saw Stan's funeral notice. It hit me hard, I didn't talk to him after I left the mill, but I owed him so much. I got in touch with the funeral director, and sent a letter to his widow.

Some time later I got a call from Stan's daughter-in-law. The letter never got through to his widow, as she had died the year before. As had Stan's son. Which left only Stan's daughter-in-law and granddaughter. She told me Stan had lived in a nursing home around the corner from the snooker club, and he used to go in regularly. So I did know who it was.

I met up with Stan's daughter-in-law. We looked over some old photos. She told me how the year had hit her daughter, let's call her 'K', very hard. She said that she was a budding musician, and a Morrissey fan. I told her they should come to my house. She phoned K up, and about 30 minutes later, they arrived at my house. I showed her all the CDs and vinyl, bookcases full of books and magazines, other zines, music books, and so on.

I looked at K and said 'take it - it's all yours'. She leapt up and gave me a hug. We filled the car with everything, and off they drove.

We've kept in touch.

Superb.
 
This is easy. The interaction from Morrissey over the past six years on social media, which includes a number of exclusive interviews, personal emails and thousands of hilarious tweets and comments on my mesmerizing blog, FollowingTheMozziah.blogspot.com. Morrissey is the modern day Oscar Wilde, and we are so lucky to have been alive at the same time as this genius.

Rat

Ps Dear Uncle Skinny, this thread is about Morrissey related possessions, so as you have none, you really shouldn't have replied with your silly little story that shows more about how you have lost the plot than about you being a kind person.
Pps Feel free to either delete this or post a sweary abusive reply - whichever makes you feel better. Either one makes me laugh to myself.
 
My Sing Your Life fanzines, a singles box set, the first copy of Viva Hate I bought on vinyl and several other odds and ends. I pretty much love it all actually.
 
This is easy. The interaction from Morrissey over the past six years on social media, which includes a number of exclusive interviews, personal emails and thousands of hilarious tweets and comments on my mesmerizing blog, FollowingTheMozziah.blogspot.com. Morrissey is the modern day Oscar Wilde, and we are so lucky to have been alive at the same time as this genius.

Rat

Ps Dear Uncle Skinny, this thread is about Morrissey related possessions, so as you have none, you really shouldn't have replied with your silly little story that shows more about how you have lost the plot than about you being a kind person.
Pps Feel free to either delete this or post a sweary abusive reply - whichever makes you feel better. Either one makes me laugh to myself.

f*** you, and f*** your sorry lying arse. Get on and sue me, you horrific waste of skin.
 
I have a postcard that Steven sent to me in the early Smiths days.

#we:loveletter:Rome

Benny-the-British-Butcher :greatbritain::knife:

I seem to remember you claiming not so long ago that you had an attic full of signed Smiths vinyl together with a host of letters from Morrissey. You're not saying that you were lying about that, surely?! You utter c***.
 
Alma Matters 7" test pressing, French Suedehead 7" test pressing with fact sheet filled with technical pressing plant information, Greek Your Arsenal test pressing, Japanese My Love Life with Pregnant Jigsaw puzzle unsnapped to name a few..
 
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