Birthdays in Manchester

“Come on Johnny, you know I don’t like people,” said Morrissey as he was dragged into a room filled with meat-eaters and bigoted slobs.

“Would it kill you to be happy? I want you to be here Nigel! You’re my best friend!” Johnny snapped as he dragged him to the head of a table, with a homemade birthday cake complete with messy icing which read, “Happy Birthday Johnny”.

“I never got a cake, I never even had a birthday. And my name is Stephen but only my friends call me that. And I don’t have many.”

“Well—I’m sorry I never got you a cake but this is a party lighten up Stephen!” Johnny could feel himself losing the fight.

“Are you cooking meat next door?!”

“Don’t do this to me Nigel! I love you… Almost!” Johnny’s tears began to well.

“Are you ready for your birthday present?” Morrissey sarcastically jived, getting ready to sing.


“I’ve come to wish you an unhappy birthday…”

“No please! Anything but this!” Johnny broke down uncontrollably in his cake, sobbing and making a mess.

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