What it would be like if Morrissey was Mayor of London

Could this man charm us?
Morrissey
Getty

Holding public office is a piece of cake. Vegan cake that is. I don’t know what that blond man was making a fuss about, typical Southerner.

I’ve just come back from lunch at the excellent bean burger stall in Borough Market near the office. Meat is murder, obvs, as I told the Queen. The monarchy is cruel but I liked her corgis. Maybe they could take over from her. They wouldn’t entertain the idea of people like Jamie Oliver making chicken-based school dinners or mix me up with Noel Gallagher. People are so reductive — all confident Mancunian musicians are not the same.

She’s better than David Cameron. He didn’t know the meaning of playing it cool when we went for pints of white tea together, saying he is a massive fan and asking me to sign his Smiths greatest hits album. I wrote Pig Mouth Strikes Again on it. I haven’t recovered from the rumour about what he is alleged to have done at university with one of our fellow beasts.

My cats are getting used to City Hall. It’s nice to feel at home in more than one place — that’s why I keep my house in Los Angeles.

It’s taking a while to win over the police. I didn’t mean it when I sung about them being a “headless pack with small boy jokes and big loaded guns”. I’ve tried complimenting them on their style and trying to share anecdotes about Manchester. I don’t think we should move Parliament there though, it’s so rainy and that flattens my hair. LA could work, or Central America — Moz-iachi mariachi bands are big there.

If only the National Front would stop asking me to collaborate. Just because I once waved a Union Jack flag doesn’t mean I’m into them. I prefer animals — did I mention that?

Apparently I have to do social media, Twitter is the perfect metaphor for ... something. Dunno what. But I am in touch with the people — I listen to The Archers all the time. Good farming stories.

As an author, I want to focus on literacy and sex education while I’m in the job. I’m a feminist and think women should enjoy sex, as I wrote in one of my books, List of the Lost. Eliza and Erza “roll together in one giggling snowball of full-figured copulation”.

Next I have to meet the Pope. I thought I was the Pope, of Mope. I’ll take an Uber to our meeting. Tomorrow I’ll sort out those bicycles and the Tube — I thought it was a television show. Heave on — to Euston, as I sung once. Did I mention I was also in a band? And no, it wasn’t called the Iain Duncan Smiths.

As imagined by Susannah Butter

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