'f*** morrissey-solo.com' t-shirt worn by Morrissey and band in Bradford

Update (June 29, 7:50 AM PT):
Media coverage:

Morrissey wages war on own fansite - The Guardian, link from Uncleskinny
Morrissey vs. His Fans - ClashMusic
Morrissey - Morrissey's F-Word Blast At Fan Website - ContactMusic
Morrissey Hates His Fans, The Music Industry, The Smiths, The Internet And YOU. Probably. - Hecklerspray



They came out in 'f*** Morrissey solo.com' for the encore of This Charming Man.

ironically he was holding a copy of Manchester Music Tour by .......JJ


Image from Facebook posted by modrevolve:

full
 
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It is oftimes remarked upon that coming here to post, which normally entails reading recent comments, tends to alter one's mood from cheerful conviviality to flummoxed displeasure, akin to Stephen Leacock's story:

- When I go into a bank I get rattled. The clerks rattle me;
the wickets rattle me; the sight of the money rattles me;
everything rattles me.

The moment I cross the threshold of a bank and attempt to
transact business there, I become an irresponsible idiot.

I knew this beforehand, but my salary had been raised to
fifty dollars a month and I felt that the bank was the
only place for it.

So I shambled in and looked timidly round at the clerks.
I had an idea that a person about to open an account must
needs consult the manager.

I went up to a wicket marked "Accountant." The accountant
was a tall, cool devil. The very sight of him rattled me.
My voice was sepulchral.

"Can I see the manager?" I said, and added solemnly,
"alone." I don't know why I said "alone."

"Certainly," said the accountant, and fetched him.

The manager was a grave, calm man. I held my fifty-six
dollars clutched in a crumpled ball in my pocket.

"Are you the manager?" I said. God knows I didn't doubt it.

"Yes," he said.

"Can I see you," I asked, "alone?" I didn't want to say
"alone" again, but without it the thing seemed self-evident.

The manager looked at me in some alarm. He felt that I
had an awful secret to reveal.

"Come in here," he said, and led the way to a private
room. He turned the key in the lock.

"We are safe from interruption here," he said; "sit down."

We both sat down and looked at each other. I found no
voice to speak.

"You are one of Pinkerton's men, I presume," he said.

He had gathered from my mysterious manner that I was a
detective. I knew what he was thinking, and it made me
worse.

"No, not from Pinkerton's," I said, seeming to imply that
I came from a rival agency.

"To tell the truth," I went on, as if I had been prompted
to lie about it, "I am not a detective at all. I have
come to open an account. I intend to keep all my money
in this bank."

The manager looked relieved but still serious; he concluded
now that I was a son of Baron Rothschild or a young Gould.

"A large account, I suppose," he said.

"Fairly large," I whispered. "I propose to deposit
fifty-six dollars now and fifty dollars a month regularly."

The manager got up and opened the door. He called to the
accountant.

"Mr. Montgomery," he said unkindly loud, "this gentleman
is opening an account, he will deposit fifty-six dollars.
Good morning."

I rose.

A big iron door stood open at the side of the room.

"Good morning," I said, and stepped into the safe.

"Come out," said the manager coldly, and showed me the
other way.

I went up to the accountant's wicket and poked the ball
of money at him with a quick convulsive movement as if
I were doing a conjuring trick.

My face was ghastly pale.

"Here," I said, "deposit it." The tone of the words seemed
to mean, "Let us do this painful thing while the fit is
on us."

He took the money and gave it to another clerk.

He made me write the sum on a slip and sign my name in
a book. I no longer knew what I was doing. The bank swam
before my eyes.

"Is it deposited?" I asked in a hollow, vibrating voice.

"It is," said the accountant.

"Then I want to draw a cheque."

My idea was to draw out six dollars of it for present
use. Someone gave me a chequebook through a wicket and
someone else began telling me how to write it out. The
people in the bank had the impression that I was an
invalid millionaire. I wrote something on the cheque and
thrust it in at the clerk. He looked at it.

"What! are you drawing it all out again?" he asked in
surprise. Then I realized that I had written fifty-six
instead of six. I was too far gone to reason now. I had
a feeling that it was impossible to explain the thing.
All the clerks had stopped writing to look at me.

Reckless with misery, I made a plunge.

"Yes, the whole thing."

"You withdraw your money from the bank?"

"Every cent of it."

"Are you not going to deposit any more?" said the clerk,
astonished.

"Never."

An idiot hope struck me that they might think something
had insulted me while I was writing the cheque and that
I had changed my mind. I made a wretched attempt to look
like a man with a fearfully quick temper.

The clerk prepared to pay the money.

"How will you have it?" he said.

"What?"

"How will you have it?"

"Oh"--I caught his meaning and answered without even
trying to think--"in fifties."

He gave me a fifty-dollar bill.

"And the six?" he asked dryly.

"In sixes," I said.

He gave it me and I rushed out.

As the big door swung behind me I caught the echo of a
roar of laughter that went up to the ceiling of the bank.
Since then I bank no more. I keep my money in cash in my
trousers pocket and my savings in silver dollars in a
sock. -

http://www.online-literature.com/stephen-leacock/literary-lapses/1/
 
Where can I buy this shirt?
This site might be alright, but most people here are just a bunch of complaining idiots who think everything he does is shit. I wonder why they even bother to come here or just listen to some other music.
 
Biting the hand(s) that feeds him. Great artist but delusional when it comes to his fanbase. Where exactly does he think his fans go for updates on him? Only reason TTY get’s any traffic is cause this site directs it that way.
 
Also I think Morrissey should watch a double feature of LA Story and Roxanne before he takes the fashion advice seriously of anyone named Martin, bless his heart. Just saying.
 
Caroline, I feel the same way when I come on here - chiefly because of your pseudo-intellectual inane postings.
 
I applaud Morrissey for calling this site out on it's crap. You make everyone who is a fan of his seem like some jerk or something . I don't think he needs to rely on you to be loved you are not the voice of the people and you have no control over organizing where other people are concerned. He does it of his own merit without you designating yourself as his official spokesperson. He does not recognize you as official anything so stop trying to find some way to make that seem as though you are favored. You are jerks. Real fans of Morrissey were and are off liking him without needing a nod from you or your approval and some of you are just plain sick and not in a good way. This place is negative, demeaning, addled and like a bad rag mag.Nobody needs to have you organize their interests for him and you attack everything he does and screw you morons insulting his band and living in the past . You know what?? Boz is kinda cute just like he is. I regrret ever having seen this site in the first place and never truly cared anyhow but it is trash and you are awful and seriously while it may get traffic thankyou Dear Morrissey for speaking your mind it is horrible.
 
I long to see his shit band wear t shirts which bare the message

Yes we are
TTFW
 
I applaude the many posts of support for DavidT

Viva morrissey-solo.com
 
Check this out....whole range of merchandise available

http://www.cafepress.co.uk/f***morrisseysolo.550891057

Fred Hood
 
How very ungrateful of you, mister!! Years of free publicity, flattery and - among many bitter lovehurt comments from opinionated fans - real LOVE from his admirers and followers disgust the great Moz?
He is turning into a depressed egomaniac old queen, isn't he?


Who supported you when times were tough? That Julia character, who was loaded and a bit cuckoo?

Still love you Moz, regardless of your (blatant) slighting of all of us.
But I'm not paying for your records anymore. I want to piss you off, I'll download it all.
 
Yet each man kills the thing he loves by each let this be heard,
some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word....

okay, maybe not a flattering word, but Morrissey is killing the thing that generates and disseminates news about him - without that he could disappear into the ethernet of disinformation and info overkill.

David T has done a great job of systematising a resource where genuine fans can talk about Morrissey and find out things about him not only from official sources, but from each other. It's a community! Obviously within the community there are a few rascals and a few people who've committed no crime but seem to be banished anyway... but that's just part of forum culture it seems.

I love solo, just because it provides me with Moz friends, Moz information and Moz frink!

Thanks David! You're a star... (ooh, and so is Skinny - he's a great moderator):thumb:
 
Thank you so much David T. for this magnificient site. Keep up the good work.You are a true Morrissey-fan.
 
i knew moz was a crybaby, had no clue the same is true for the entire band. ah well, i'll still listen to the music, still go the shows, still visit solo, still not be bothered by all the immaturity here and within the morrissey machine.
 
Morrissey = Big Baby!! Why don't you realize this is a fan based site and we are the ones behind the site. We make all of the comments to express our dismay. Morrissey-solo or MorrisseyLoversUnited is the vessel for us expressing our joy/sadness. You are in your fifties, grow up!! I will still support you but stop burning all of your bridges. That has been your entire career. Too much pride.

Dave you have done so much for someone who is so ungrateful. Keep us the great work!!! :guitar: Rock on!
 
i knew moz was a crybaby, had no clue the same is true for the entire band. ah well, i'll still listen to the music, still go the shows, still visit solo, still not be bothered by all the immaturity here and within the morrissey machine.


scene from backstage:
"if you don't wanna get kicked off this tour, you'll wear the shirt! and furthermore, you'll wear it and Like it!"
 
Can't say I blame the man one bit. Some horrible things are said about him around here.
 

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