Oh, big seal

Just when I thought today's big news was going to be the Morrissey gig, I saw Sammy seal in Poplar Dock this morning. Mozza will have to take a back seat.

During a gentle row round the dock I was surprised to hear some heavy breathing and snuffling. I looked up from my oars and there he was. (Or she – some reports say Sammy is a girl).

I've not seen him for about three years but this morning he was just two metres from my dingy and I could see right up his nostrils!

Apparently, the Sammy hangs around the docks as stall holders from Billingsgate Fish Market feed him.

Seeing Morrissey live was a religious experience. Not in a Road to Damascus way, but because the rest of the audience behaved as if the Messiah was there, at the Royal Festival Hall.

Grown men were crying and women became hysterical as they sang along with their right hands raised. A mob at the front reached out to touch him. A brush of trouser leg, a graze from his shoe, and in one case, a sneezeful of Morrissey snot.

Some stormed the stage (perhaps something not seen before at the RFH) and were carted off happy in the knowledge He had definitely seen them.

Mozza himself was in fine form - cracking the microphone lead like a dominatrix's whip, tearing off his shirts and begging to be loved.

He sang songs from the new album and some old stuff. It was great to hear Everyday Is Like Sunday and There Is A Light That Never Goes Out live.

He has definitely still got it.