Morrissey is one of the most divisive figures in entertainment. On one hand, a large portion of his work has been massively influential on indie and alternative music. On the other hand, he’s an insufferable diva who’ll cancel a show over a stomach ache, or the wind blowing in the wrong direction, or, one time, literally, someone eating a sandwich he did not approve of. Lately, it feels like his legacy is going to be racism and the fact that he backs out of shows more than he shows up for them.
Which means it’s time for the torch to be passed. Fortunately, another Manchester native by the name of Jeff Wallace is more than willing to take up the mantle as the next “Pope of Mope”, as he’s already established a similar legacy by famously cancelling on nearly every one of his friend group’s hangout sessions.
Jeff has slowly become the master of building anticipation before crushing the hopes of everyone looking forward to being in his presence. Just like Morrissey, it’s amazing anyone still likes him at all.
The biggest indicator that this exhausting man is the next Mozfather occurred last week when, after multiple cancellations, he announced a three-night blowout at his house, inviting every friend and acquaintance in his social circle. And yet upon arrival, they all found the lights off, doors locked, and a hastily written sign about having pneumonia. Heaven knows everyone involved is miserable now.
“Honestly, we thought about kicking him out of our circle of friends permanently, but Jeff used to be cool as hell. Like he was super funny and self-deprecating, we’d be quoting him when he wasn’t even around,” said longtime friend Margo Robbins. “Maybe he’s still like that, but it’s been so long since he actually showed up, the only interactions we have with him are seeing him complain online about how nobody likes him.”
“It’s not like I don’t want to see my friends, it’s just that the thought of interacting with another human being makes me want to vomit, plus if the place I’m going doesn’t have the thermostat set at exactly 71 degrees, I get a terrible headache,” said Wallace in his defence.
It takes a lot of balls to repeatedly make a big deal out of showing up to the bar, promising to buy everyone drinks and running the karaoke machine, only to show up for 45 seconds and look into the bar from across the street and disappear into the night. But that’s show business, apparently?
