‘Never meet your heroes’ - a phrase I’ve heard a hundred times, maybe less, maybe more. Following Dermot O’Leary’s recent interview with one notoriously divisive curmudgeon, it’s apparent that this maxim certainly applies if your hero happens to be one Steven Patrick Morrissey.
Surely anyone who’s anyone in music knows that anything Mozza says ought to be treated with more than a pinch of salt. But, of course, we’re talking about Dermot O’Leary, who - affable though he appears - has not achieved his radio2 slot through his expressed love of music: he’s a populist presenter; adored by mums and daughters, secretly envied for his looks by pubescent sons (and sexually flagging fathers?). And so, from the offing, the ‘X-factory’ presenter is a ripe figure of fun for our anti-mainstream friend, Mr Moz.
[Image: Dermot and Morrissey: was he REALLY joking when he said he’d like to smash every tooth in your head? Hmm…]
Pitching yourself against Morrissey and his scaffold of irony in an interview can never be an easy prospect, but Dermot’s approach doesn’t do him any favours whatsoever. His initial hankering places him on the backfoot for the rest of the broadcast which, like an incendiary time-bomb, explodes in the face of O’Leary, leaving shards of embitterment, embarrassment and sheer farce.
Morrissey’s abbreviated speech and dismissive contradictions lead DO’L to brand his guest a ‘liar’.
‘Why are you doing this?’ questions D’OL.
‘Because you’re inviting it, Dermot, you really are. There’s just something about your face that says, ‘Please lie to me’,’ replies Moz in his droll, languid voice.
From this point onward, DO’L is rattled and reveals a caustic, prickly side to his personality that is more akin to Alan Patridge than it is to fellow all-pervasive TV luminary Davina McCall. In a vain attempt to redress the balance of humiliation, D’OL appears to cling to Morrissey’s coat-tails, declaring that, like Moz, he doesn’t like people.
‘How can you say that you don’t like people?’ asks Morrissey, perversely Christ-like.
”Cos I’m lying to you. You have a face that invites me to lie to you, and you accept it. Three points!’ exclaims DO’L venomously - a colloquial outburst which, as you can imagine, does little to endear Moz to his host.
From then on, DO’L is intent on undermining Moz. His efforts are focused on unpicking Moz’s opinions - and it is here that an incensed DO’L misses the point. Morrissey is a performer: a self-induced, self-feeding myth refracted through the lens of the media. As a man - or rather, image - seen to despise the all-consuming media machine, he certainly knows how to play his part in subverting it from the inside.
Morrissey is an awkward, misanthropic figure of contradictions. But contradictions and inconsistencies need not always be rendered negative. He is intent on misery, and if his sentiments seem to be inadvertently heading towards a rainbow, they’ll take a sharp left and head for the rainclouds. Smith’s aside, isn’t this why he retains such a devout cohort of fans? Nobody does unadulterated misery quite like Morrissey.
