His book is not going to be a classic (see above). Either Morrissey knows that - in which case the 'classic' label is a genuinely hilarious joke - or, horribile dictu, he believes it, in which case the book is likely to have all the humour and finesse of a statue produced by the Kim Jong-Il metallurgy factory for the glorification of the great leader.
The Twittersphere went wild with a torrent of hateful celebrations and equally hateful rebukes. Everyone seems to want to voice a very vocal opinion on how they feel about the death of the Iron Lady. What I find most interesting, and amazing, is that most of these public declarations come from my generation.
Johnny Rogan's 1992 biography of The Smiths' leading duo and subsequent fall out is a big seller and the definitive take on one of the 80's best loved and most missed bands, at least until Johnny Marr and/or Morrissey release definitive autobiographies. It also has the potential to make a great biopic.
Far from a muted epilogue, Strangeways is The Smiths turned up to 11: more heartbroken, witty, lascivious and adventurous than ever before. The explicit politicking may be absent, but this was never as central to The Smiths as the sloganeering album titles suggested: Morrissey was always more preoccupied with romantic than political malaise.
One of the best bits of last week's Olympics opening ceremony was the homage to Britain's musical heritage. The medley included, among a whole array of musical greats, the Beatles, the Sex Pistols, T-Rex, Bowie and quite rightly, some electro synth-pop too - OMD and New Order. Fab. Beijing may have had super-bendy acrobats, but come on, for coolness, Britain gets gold.
The news of Morrissey's possible retirement was always unlikely to knock the Eurozone crisis off the front page. Why should we care?