Meeting Morrissey

My Morrissey story, every word of which is true. I promise you I am not delusional… ‘Twas 17 March 1994, St Patrick’s Day, and Mozzer was signing albums in HMV on Market Street that evening. At lunchtime, when I saw that the queue was already forming, I wangled the afternoon off work, and took my place in the queue, in a fenced off area on Market Street (we looked like slaves….and in some ways, we were – slaves to Morrissey…) Anyhow, eventually, after my toes had snapped off in the cold, the queue started moving, and snaked its way around the CDs in HMV. Finally, seven hours after I’d started queuing, I was at the front – and Moz was stood there, at the singles desk (ironically appropriate.) I moved forward, put my album down (for I still adore vinyl – plus there’s more to write on!) “I’ve waited 11 years for this moment,” I said. “Have you really?” he replied, somewhat bemused. I asked could I touch him (it only seemed respectful) and placed my arm on his tweed jacketed shoulder. Before I could say whatever it was I wanted to say, he looked me full in the face and said, “I know you.” Excuse me? He said it again. “You’re from Eccles, aren’t you? I know you.” I could’ve fallen over. “How??” I asked. I had to know. And then, laughing, he said he wouldn’t tell me that! But spookily, when he wrote in my album, he spelt Johanna correctly immediately, even though I always pronounce it “Joanna”…. Then it was my turn over, turfed out the back door of HMV, and I had to leave…..and to this day, I still don’t know how he knows me. And how did he recognise me out of all those people, and where from??? Over the years, I’ve tried to find out, to no avail. I’ve emailed Boz Boorer and asked him to ask Mozzer, but though he replied, he wouldn’t do this for me. I’ve contacted various presenters of shows he was going on (Janice Long replied, the sweetheart), I’ve contacted his management. I’ve emailed Dave Haslam, Stuart Maconie, anyone I think could get in touch with him on my behalf, to no avail. Yes, I’ve met Mike Joyce in the Hac, but Moz wasn’t with him. Was it something to do with the poem I performed for Granada, with ref to The Smiths – but how would he know I was from Eccles?? Ohhh, can you imagine – I’d worshipped him for YEARS, and for my hero to tell me he KNOWS me….and I can’t go to my grave not knowing. But how can I find out?