Meanwhile, across a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff, in London cerca 1982, two young men known to most as Johnny Marr and Morrissey strolled casually through a petting zoo. "I just don't understand why they call it 'polish,'" said a distressed Morrissey. "It doesn't 'polish.' 'Polish' would suggest that it just makes one's nails shiny. It seems more like paint. And moreover, you don't polish nails, you paint them. I just can't understand why it's not called nail paint..." Johnny picked up a quarter and used it to get a handful of al paca food from the dispenser. "I dunno why it's called nail polish either, Steven," he agreed, using the first name that Morrissey had been trying to drop, "but why again are we in a petting zoo?"
Completely without warning, a peacock darted out from behind a bush. "That's what we're here for, Johnny!" shouted da Moz. "We're going to harvest the feathers from this peacock to make a blouse that I'm going to only half wear at our next concert!"
"A blouse?" asked Johnny. "Yes, a blouse." replied Morrissey.
They dove after the peacock, which in turn reared its head and began to attack. Johnny, who had the bird in a headlock, let go, and the peacock ran off into the urban jungle of London town.
Before the curators of the petting zoo knew what happened, they booked it off the premises. Though they thought they were safe, the proper authorities were hot on their trail - the dreaded and legendary petting zoo security guards, who could sniff out a litterer or a llama-feeder from miles away. Johnny and Morrissey had never faced anything so perilous before. Luckily, Moz spotted an extremely conveniently placed, blue police phone box on the street they were panicking on in London.
LOLZ