ONCE upon a time Morrissey saved my life. Not in the indie bedroom 'I want to kill myself' way, though.
  My friend Graham and I had been to Sheffield to see Pulp live, at the City Hall if I remember correctly, in 1995 or '96. A splendid time was had, all our favourites played, we left the venue satisfied. There are two ways to get from Sheffield to Lincoln (unless you are pedantic, then, of course, there are many hundreds of ways): the safe main road way, and the cutting thru' the countryside way. We did the latter.
  At this point I should mention that Graham is an ace driver. Anyway, listening to music we were, and one tape finished and Graham wanted to listen to the then-recently released new Morrissey album, Southpaw Grammar. A fine album indeed. Graham slowed a little as he searched with his hand for the tape, and slowed a little more as he fiddled and put the tape into the cassette machine.
  If Graham hadn't have insisted on finding the Morrissey tape and thus slowing slightly, the mad bloke who was coming the other way and who cut the blind corner at over 70mph would have ploughed straight into us.
  So, like I say, Morrissey saved my life. So did Graham and his safe driving really, though.
Mon 10 Mar 2003