Current Vacancy: One Hero. Must not be a twat. Apply within. Previous Applicants and Heroes need not apply.

Last year, I lost a hero of mine. He’d been a hero since I was about seven or eight, although I’d been a fan of his since I was four. Am I sad about it? Well, yes and no. Yes, because I think he was one of the finest lyricists of his generation; there’ll never be another quite like him. No, because at the ripe old age of 32, I finally gave up on Morrissey, seeing him for what he is, an outspoken controversial vegetarian propagandist bellend.

Yes, that’s right. I hereby denounce Stephen Patrick Morrissey (as wanky fans and hero worshippers across the globe constantly refer to him as) as a hero of mine. I’d come close a few years back when he appeared on the Jonathan Ross show and was an utter fucking prick, but I let him off, brushing his arrogance and pomposity as ‘it’s just Morrissey, this is what he’s about, this is him’.

For years, I tried seeing reason in some of his controversial statements, I denied he was racist (because I didn’t want to think that a hero of mine could be racist) and defended him in various arguments about Morrissey and the Smiths that I’d had with people (well, mainly David whose feelings on the bequiffed knobber have been previously documented). But his statement during the aftermath of the Norway murders carried out by right wing lunatic Anders Breivik was completely unforgivable.

I am all for free speech. Sometimes, if you give someone enough rope and they can hang themselves. So to compare human life to the lives of animals that are, essentially, bred for food is mental. Yes, the animals may not be treated too well which is heinous, but to trivialise the slaughter of 68 people, is horrific and irresponsible. And one of the things which shocked me about the whole situation was reading some of the comments the die hard Moz fans were putting on comments sections of the articles on the internet, supporting his statement, laughing that he’d courted this controversy and how he’d got everyone’s knickers in a twist. Well it cost him a fan, not that I’d be a fan he’d want, I eat meat, I wear leather and I’m not racist. The scales have fallen from my eyes and all I see now is a sad middle aged man who seems to be writing some sort of ‘How to be a Pompous Controversial Arse’ manual.

It pains me a little, I’ll never see him live (although if he were to make some sort of ill thought out statement such as the Anders Breivik one, I’m probably better off), and if the ever surfacing rumours of the Smiths reforming were to actually come off, that would be heartbreaking, but I just can’t do it. I don’t want that idiot getting any more of my money for spouting his bullshit.

Farewell Morrissey. You ruined it with your stupid ill thought out opinions. You’re a pop star, no one wants to know what opinions you hold*. Just write some fucking half decent songs and stop being a dickhead.

Now, who’s for KFC?

*See also: Thom Yorke, Michael Stipe, Bono, Nicky Wire and Chris Martin.

Morrissey astonishes scientific community, the sane.

In a human physiology defying feat, the British Medical Council reports, Morrissey has surprised both the scientific community and the world at large by completely vanishing up his own arsehole.

"It's not unprecedented for certain individuals to be on the verge of disappearing up their own sphincter", said Professor Michael Finnegan-Beginagain of the BMC, "Clarkson has been on the verge of critical mass for around a decade, and we believe that Bono, Glenn Beck and the two Jeremies (namely Kyle and Vine) have reached almost a form of equilibrium with the arsehole/existence balance - but this is honestly the first time we've actually seen it happen. Live on stage in front of thousands of witnesses as well."

"He was between songs", said Harriet Hill, a concert-goer at the ill-fated Warsaw Gig on July the 24th, "Just about to start playing Meat is Murder or some other miserable droning piece of shite, when he starting shouting to the crowd - 'We all live in a murderous world, as the events in Norway have shown, with 97 dead. Though that is nothing compared to what happens in McDonald's and Kentucky Fried S*** every day.'"

"That was exactly what he said", repeated a stunned Harriet, "Even the asterisks in Kentucky Fried S***. And I didn't even know how they were even pronounced".

Witnesses reported hearing the sound of a dull 'whoomph' as though air were being replaced by vacuum, before seeing Morrissey vanish into thin air. Concert organisers were first on the scene but found no remains, simply a wilted daffodil where Steven Morrissey once stood.

"I suppose it was inevitable that this would happen someday", continued Finnegan-Beginagain. "Ever since the early days of The Smiths his friends and colleagues were noticing him shrink in height on an almost weekly basis."

Asked if the general public had any reason to be concerned over these recent events, Finnegan-Beginagain reassured us that the same set of circumstances is unlikely to occur within our lifetime, "although we'll be keeping a beady eye on Liam Gallagher. Solely For research purposes, you understand".

Asked what has actually happened to Morrissey, Michael Finnegan-Beginagain shrugged. "It's quite possible that he has simply ceased to exist", he theorised, "but another school of thought suggests that he may have in fact, in the moments of finishing that fated sentence, become a singularity and passed through to another alternate reality, a universe where nothing but Steven Morrissey exists. He's present in every single atom of this potential "Morrissey-verse", as it were, so in this reality finally achieved his aim of being the fucking be-all and end-all".

"On a personal note I'm glad to be shot of the whinging little bastard.", concluded Finnegan-Beginagain, "I never really liked The Smiths and other than a brief little ray of potential hope in "First of the Gang to die", he frankly bored my tits off."

A herd of cows and a brood of chickens were unavailable for comment.