1988 05 14 'Morrissey Married' Shock

Cup final candidates The Morrisseys, Natalie Cole, Dog Faced Hermans, Electric Dog Sex and The Wonder Stuff line up for inspection
Handshakes by JAMES BROWN

'MORRISSEY MARRIED' SHOCK

"MORRISSEY is married, you know," some beery-eyed bloke muttered just as last orders were called, "honest!"

“Don't be daft!" the patrons seemed to sneer from every corner of the public house. “He can't be!"

Could the man who made the Whalley Range signpost a tourist attraction really have 'tied the knot'? Could he have two children, as suggested, the second just two years old? No, of course not. Further investigation disproved this wild, and alcohol-induced claim. The Stephen we were discussing was not, in fact, the Morrissey, but a Morrissey.

Stephen Morrissey and his wife Julie live in Little Hulton. It's a humdrum, down-and-out estate on the outskirts of North Manchester where the only other vaguely interesting residents are Peter Hook's mum, Happy Mondays and a rapper called Ian. The call-boxes are permanently out-of-order, the buses never turn up and the only entertainment is the Spa pub (where Stephen plays pool).

When the Morrissey family got a phone some two years ago, their name "Morrissey S" appeared in the directory - the only “Morrissey S" in all of Manchester. Whilst Steve was at work, Julie then began to receive calls from "giggling schoolies who wanted to know if Morrissey was in."

To Julie and her husband, Morrissey and The Smiths meant very little at this point. They were almost unaware of the group that Melvin Bragg has since mentioned in the same breath as The Beatles. They didn't own a Smiths record or, come to that, even a record player. Julie was disconcerted by the callers, not only because she didn't know who they were, but because the majority were female. “I think she was getting funny ideas about me," says Steve.

“The people who phoned seemed to think I was this Morrissey’s mother," says Julia. “I'd always ask which Morrissey they wanted. It was really weird at first, when we didn’t understand what was happening, 'cos if I said that Steve was in, and then went off to find him, the person on the other end would always hang up before I reached the phone.

“One girl wanted to know if I could get her a pair of the guitarist's underpants. Someone else - a bloke! - wanted to know if my 'son' really did sleep naked on a big mirror! You have to remember that at the time I didn't know who the hell they meant. I thought they meant our Nick. He was only five. I told 'em, I'd report 'em to the police."

Such bizarre, and often unpleasant, calls have now become the norm in the Morrissey household. Once a girl phoned up at one in the morning threatening to kill herself. “I told her I couldn't do 'owt,” explains Steve.

“Told her I wasn't the Morrissey, but she wouldn't stop... So I told her to piss off. That's when we started leaving the phone off the hook. We used to get a load of drunken gits phoning up when we were out and scaring the wits out of the babysitter."

Not everything about this affair of mistaken identity has been loathesome however. The Morrisseys frequently receive sacks full of gifts and cards. “On Morrissey's birthday last year we got 43," says Julie. “I wish I could get that number on my birthday. We got flowers and Steve got 200 Benson and Hedges off someone in Bristol."

Quite why anyone should wish to send Morrissey 200 cigarettes will remain a mystery, but the Morrisseys of Little Hulton got through them fine. Even post Smiths split, South Bank Show and ‘Viva Hate' the calls and letters keep coming. “The phone never stops ringing, but we've had to take it off the hook again after some idiot asked for a reverse charge call from Los Angeles!"

Stephen and Julie have adapted to their new roles of quiet fame, but the volume of calls has become so great they've been forced to go ex-directory. People still ring and ask for autographs though, and Steve has even had a marriage proposal. He told the girl he already had a wife. She hung up in shock...

Sarah Champion (with thanks to Bernard Corri and Lucy Vines)