...:::Lord Sadler:::... lordsadler2012@gmail.com
Well, now, as we come towards the end of this evening on BBC 1 ,
Michael Fish takes a late look at the weather.
Again, a good deal of cloud.
A little rain from time to time for much of the day,
but later on that rain is going to become ever more persistent
and eventually, I think that rain
will probably turn out to be fairly heavy.
What you've seen in any documentary about any band,
before or since, is how great and wonderful everything is.
It's not the truth of it. It's hell, it's hard.
It's horrible. It's enjoyable to a small degree
but if you know what you're doing it for,
you'll tolerate all that
because the work, at the end of the day, is what matters.
We managed to offend
all the people we were fucking fed up with.
The Labour Party, who'd promised so much after the war
had done so little for the working class
that the working class were confused about even themselves
and didn't even understand what working class meant anymore.
It was cold and miserable.
No one had anyjobs. You couldn't get ajob.
Everyone was on the dole.
If you weren't born into money,
then you might as well have kissed your fucking life goodbye,
you weren't gonna amount to anything.
The germ, the seed of the Sex Pistols
generated from that.
Now is the winter of our discontent
made glorious summer -- by this sun of York.
England was in a state of social upheaval.
It was a very, very different time.
Total social chaos.
There was rioting all over the place.
You have to join the picket line.
There were strikes on every kind of amenity you could think of.
Pound power.
The TV channels would go on and off randomly.
People were fed up with the old way.
The old way was clearly not working.
There's a little bit sticking up there.
You can see it in the reflection.
Ultra Bright gets you noticed.
You're told at school, you're told at the job center,
you're told by everyone that you don't stand a chance.
And you should just accept your lot, and get on with it.
That's where you're gonna get the social strife.
Hate and war... and race hate.
When you feel powerless...
you will grab any power you can...
to retain some kind of self-respect.
Want something on how many people have been mugged?
Don't lay your hand on me... I'll break your fucking jaw!
That man is sad 'cause he's misinformed,
and he's misled, and he's used.
Yes -- I am a racialist. And why?
Who's made me a racialist?
This government -- the conservatives,
and every stingy, stinking councillor
who sticks up for the nigger.
And I'll stand by my words,
'cause I don't like these people, never will do!
Words are my weapons.
Violence is something I'm not very good at.
I don't think you can explain how things happen,
other than sometimes theyjust should,
and the Sex Pistols should have happened, and did.
We went out in the garden.
Get off your arse!
I was born in Queen Charlotte's Hospital
on September 3rd, 1955...
And I lived with my mother and my stepfather
who I thought was my dad, in the basement
in Shepherd's Bush.
And I slept at the edge of their bed on a camp bed.
My real dad, he bailed when I was two.
His name was Don Jarvis. He was an amateur boxer.
I definitely didn't feel wanted as a child.
Well, I was born and raised around West London,
the Shepherd's Bush and Hammersmith area.
It was typically working class.
I met Steve 'cause we lived around the corner from each other.
I went to school near Paul and Steve,
next to Wormwood Scrubs Prison.
Me dad was a factory worker,
and mum worked at a powder puff factory.
If you were to look back at me as a school kid,
you'd see a very shy, quiet,
Iittle church mouse kind of character in North London.
Irish immigrant parents.
My mum taught me to read and write
after meningitis, a serious illness I had at seven,
when I was in a coma for a year.
When I came out of hospital, I was completely brain wiped...
Old memories had been erased... Didn't remember anything at all.
Just backwards in everything.
It was like having to start all over again.
# Pictures of Lily... #
How does it get from the man to the egg?
I actually got put back a year 'cause I was so stupid.
And I would never pay any attention in class,
I was just always daydreaming.
Steve was quite wild at 1 0, 1 1 years old.
I think he was always getting into trouble then.
You should make sure that you've got the thing around the right way.
On the other hand -- I got four fingers and a thumb.
I question everything, I always have done.
If we were doing Shakespeare,
a teacher would give me a hard time,
and he wouldn't tell me what I wanted to know.
I'd ask outright questions,
and you're not supposed to do that.
You're just supposed to accept,
"lt's Shakespeare. It's great, you're not."
That's not good enough for me.
I would steal. I mean, that's all I knew how to do.
I used to watch my parents steal at Tescos when I was six.
And I was always getting in trouble.
And so that's all there was -- music.
# Flavors of the mountain streamline... #
I was totally into music -- Roxy Music and Bowie.
I thought that musicians fell from the sky at that point.
I didn't think anyone could be a musician.
# School's out forever! #
I was very quiet at school up until about 14 or 1 5,
when I decided I'd had enough.
I knew we were being fobbed off...
and basically given a shoddy third-rate version of reality.
So you would not be capable of questioning your future,
because you didn't have one.
My mother loved Alice Cooper as much as I did.
She had an extremely varied taste for everything
from lrish folk music to T. Rex...
To some early Bowie.
Lots of the heavy metal that was around at the time,
everything. Extremely Catholic taste.
# I want all you skinheads to get up on your feet #
# Put your braces together and your boots on your feet #
There was a lot of black kids down Shepherd's Bush,
and we used to go to their parties
and listen to ska music.
It sort of developed from there really,
I think, our interest in music.
I think it was Wally... the famous Wally Nightingale,
who said, "Well, let's start a band."
At the time, Wally said Steve would be the singer,
and I would be on drums.
Wally actually played guitar, and so it was up to each of us
to go off and learn our instruments.
We used to rehearse and rehearse,
and just kind of like, fantasize, really.
If I wanted to wear something
that T. Rex was wearing the week before,
I'd go down King's Road and fucking steal it.
I always used to end up at "Let It Rock" which was owned
by Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood.
All the other shops we went in down King's Road,
you'd walk in and you'd get 1 0 poofs on you,
asking you what you want, "Can I help you?"
That's why we'd always end up at Vivienne's,
because it was like a hang-out.
I liked the clothes, they were different.
It weren't all flares and kipper ties.
It was Teddy Boy clothes. It was a lot more rebellious,
and obviously I was drawn to that.
The Teddy Boy thing, for me,
was all about the idea of being a peacock,
and standing out in the crowd, but at the same time
feeling a sense that you are part of the dispossessed,
which -- at the end of my art school term,
I thought I could make a profit by.
I became friends with Malcolm
because he had a lot of contacts in music.
He seemed to know everybody.
He finds a way in with his blague,
which is perfect for a manager.
I walked up and down the King's Road
with complete anger and resentment.
People were extremely absurd,
and still stuck into flares and platform shoes
and neatly coiffured longish hair,
and pretending the world wasn't really happening.
It was an escapism that I resented.
There was also a garbage strike
going on for years and years and years,
and there was trash piled 1 0 foot high.
They seem to have missed that.
Wear the garbage bag, for God's sake --
and then you're dealing with it.
And that's what I would be doing...
I would wrap myself basically in trash.
...and that so lamely and unfashionable...
that dogs bark at me as I halt by them.
I've got news for you. Dogs bark at me.
In a weird way, that whole persona of, say, "Richard Ill"
helped when I joined the Sex Pistols.
Deformed, hilarious, grotesque --
and the "Hunchback of Notre Dame" is in there,
and just bizarre characters
that somehow or other, through all of their deformities
managed to achieve something.
# ...Just for a short while #
# She'll scratch in the sand #
# Won't let go of his hand... #
Steve was a kind of a kleptomaniac, really.
I'm sure he would be diagnosed as that, you know,
because he couldn't keep his hands in his pockets...
which was quite handy, really.
We'd always know a way in round the back of Hammersmith Odeon,
being our local area.
# The Jean Genie... #
David Bowie was playing the Ziggy farewell thing,
and while the roadies was asleep in the front row,
he'd be going around on stage snipping all the microphones off.
We had great guitars, amplifiers,
great drum kits, PA system, everything,
but, you know, we couldn't play it properly.
To prevent myself from being beaten up
by what were Uxbridge Teddy Boys
coming in, pilfering in the store,
I decided to go down another route --
rubber and leather fetish wear.
I felt that...
that would look fun and exciting on the King's Road
because it would have a similar effrontery
that Teddy Boy clothes had, except it would be new.
Malcolm's shop interested me
because of the rubber wear.
Fascinating that people can get themselves into such a predicament
that the only way they can have sex is in a face mask
and a rubber T-shirt.
With a bollock weight.
How does it become that way? It becomes like that for you
because you just cannot face reality.
Steve just came back one day, and said,
"l found a bass player." I said, "Who's that?"
He said, "This guy, Glen, who works in Malcolm's shop."
Lo and behold, I started rehearsing with them.
They had so much equipment that Steve had "assembled," shall we say?
We were always pestering Malcolm to manage us,
and he said he'd be interested if we got rid of Wally.
He came down once, he said, "You shouldn't sing,
you should play guitar. You should get a singer."
We realized wally was gonna have to go.
Alas, poor [ Wally ]...
I knew him, Horatio.
Round this time there was a group of guys
who came from the north side of London,
who used to come into the shop
probably for the same reasons we did,
you know, on a Saturday, whatever...
there was the group of them, apparently all called "John."
Steve and Paul never believed we were all called John...
They could never take that.
Sid's real name is John.
Theyjust thought we were
Iike a "Clockwork Orange" gang, you know -- "The Johns."
I've no idea why they picked me out...
other than they thought I looked well different from the pack.
We arranged to meet John one night...
in a pubjust down the road.
We had a few pints, and then we came back to the shop.
We gave the singer an audition
in my shop, later on, after the pub had closed,
for him to imitate,
and for him to try to sing along
with an Alice Cooper track on the jukebox
called "Eighteen", which I adored.
And he sung it like "The Hunchback of Notre Dame."
# I'm eighteen #
# And I don't know what I want #
I always did view myself
as one damn ugly fucker.
I certainly weren't no belle of the ball.
John just started...
going into spasms in front of the jukebox,
and singing, and doing his act,
what later became what everyone knows and loves, you know.
And I knew right away then that he was the singer.
He was... gonna be the one, really.
I personally wouldn't have got him in the band,
even though he looked like a star.
I thought he was a wanker for taking the piss, and he wasn't serious...
But then, after speaking to him for a while,
I realize that that was his own insecurity
to take the piss because he wasn't really a singer.
John was from a different world from me and Cookie.
He's more of an intellectual, John.
I knew what Steve was.
I knew he had potential to be a great person.
There's something in him that's genuine.
I can see that there's a tragedy in him, just like in me.
Deep down inside, they're wounded people.
And then there's Glen...
waffling on about nice things like the Beatles.
We're the very first people to call each other cunts
outright --
face on -- and know it.
And we are. We all are... All in our way.
You put all this together, and it...
it makes for high drama, a bit like a Harold Pinter play.
It shouldn't work, but it does.
All our first rehearsals were a nightmare.
I couldn't hold a damn note,
Paul couldn't really keep time, I couldn't play guitar.
I fucking hated it. It was just a fucking noise,
but I just stuck in there, because that's all I had.
# ...no lip, child #
# And I mean what I say #
# Don't give me no lip, child #
# You'll be sorry one day #
Oh, fuck, it's awful. I hate songs like that.
Right from the start, we'd argue --
bitterly, bitterly, from day one rehearsal,
pure, full-on row.
It would be constantly,
"You know, you've gotta learn to sing."
And it's like, "Why?"
"Says who? Who wrote the rules here?"
But that's all right, you need that difference of character.
I didn't think, if I could be a sculptor,
I necessarily needed clay...
I suddenly thought, "You can use people!"
And it's people that I used, like an artist.
I manipulated.
So, creating something called the "Sex Pistols"
was my painting, my sculpture,
my little "Artful Dodgers."
Humph -- you don't create me...
I am me.
There is a difference.
Everyone on the planet knows Malcolm's full of shit.
He's convinced people now that he's full of shit,
by all the shit that he says, it gets worse and worse.
And the idea of the name "Sex Pistols"
was sexy young assassins. "Pistol" meaning a gun --
and then "pistol" meaning a kind of penis.
There was never a relationship with the manager -- for me,
other than he would always try to steal my ideas,
and claim them to be his own.
I had to accept that he was the manager
because he was their manager before I joined the band.
I think they're the same fucking star sign.
They're the same kind of personality.
They were always butting heads.
It was definitely John who steered the ship
into the way we looked.
Torn, safety pin, zips all over the gaff,
third rate tramp thing.
That was poverty, really. Lack of money.
The arse of your pants falls out,
you just use safety pins.
And I always used to call him "rotten,"
'cause his fucking teeth were like, dreadful,
they looked like dog-ends,
and -- itjust stuck.
Steve always looked like a hairdresser on the high road.
He had a perm,
and unfortunately, it became permanent.
I don't have any heroes.
They're all useless.
I mean, there's no bands around, is there?
None.
None that are accessible.
It's Emerson, Lake and Palmer.
All those super bands at that time --
Emerson, Lake and Palmer, Yes -- they were dinosaurs,
They were dreadful, because they were fucking boring.
Uriah Heep... Fucking, you know... Gong!
I wanted the Sex Pistols to compete
with the Bay City Rollers!
Can you imagine Johnny Rotten singing "Shang-a-Lang"?
# Shang-a-lang #
# Shang-a-lang, shang-a-lang #
Ugh-hh!
Stradivarius -- was a terrible painter...
and Rembrandt -- made rotten violins.
I got interested in the arts,
and ended up going to St. Martin's for a year.
I walked in there and asked to see the social secretary,
and this guy said, "Well, I am."
And it was Sebastian Conran.
And he said, "Well, what's the name of your band?"
And I said, "The Sex Pistols," and Sebastian went --
"The Sex Pistols? Oh, we must have them."
I remembered being just fucking terrified,
and I had to take a Mandrax to calm down.
Hello.
Hello, I'm pissed again.
I think I took two Mandrax. We went up there,
and it was all these arty-farty fuckers in this one room.
There was no stage,
and there was another band called "Bazooka Joe"
that Adam Ant was the bass player in,
and we were all knocking the pints back --
and it was time to go on, and the Mandrax were kicking in,
and we started playing...
# ...you to know that I ain't your baby #
# I want you to know I don't care #
I remembered looking at John, and thinking,
"This is fucking fantastic. I love this."
It was like one of them magical moments.
Everything in the universe fucking clicked.
# What'cha gonna do about it... #
Glen definitely wanted to be on "Top of the Pops."
# I want you to know I don't care... #
# I want you to know that I love you baby... #
To me, that's really naff.
It's saying, "l want you to know I don't care"
Comes quite naturally.
If I take other people's songs, I put a twist on them.
Finally -- we're actually playing in a band,
I ain't the singer, I'm comfortable playing the guitar --
mind you, I was fucked up --
and next thing I know, they've pulled the plug on us,
and it was all over. We're just like out of it,
and wandering around down Piccadilly Circus.
I die of nerves before I go on stage,
cause I don't know what I'm gonna do.
And because of that, I'd have to just pull things out
from deep down inside.
Hello -- # 76 trombones to the hit parade #
Look, there's Arthur Askey in there.
There's Ken Dodd -- # We are the Daddymen... #
# We come from Notty Ash #
There's even...
"There's nothing wrong with me."
- Do we know any... - Oi...
Do we know any other fucking songs that we could do?
What England didn't understand about the Sex Pistols
is that we are music hall.
Shall we do "Roadrunner"?
I hate that. It's fucking awful. Stop it.
Stop it, it's fucking awful!
There was always a sense of piss take, and fun to it.
Shout out what -- how it starts. What's the first line?
There's a sense of comedy in the English,
even in your grimmest moment.
Right-- can you start at the beginning?
I can't hear you, Paul.
You laugh.
Who wants a bunk-up?
# With the radio on... #
"...Deform'd, unfinish'd..."
# Roadrunner, roadrunner...
"Deform'd, unfinish'd..."
Deform'd, unfinish'd...
One week we'd be playing up in high Wycombe
opening up for Screaming Lord Sutch,
and I remember seeing some faces, guys with long hair.
"When all other indications suggest..."
When all other indications suggest...
Then, a week later, we'd be playing at "The Nashville,"
...that we're in for a dirty night.
"...a dirty night."
And I'd see the same people with their hair cut short,
and wearing a ripped-up t-shirt.
# Goin' a thousand miles an hour #
Every gig you'd see a few more, and a few more, and a few more,
people who just got converted.
The Sex Pistols definitely created new environments.
It was incredible good to see the audience being individual.
# ...radio on... #
# Roadrunner, roadrunner... #
"Ain't nothing wrong with me."
Oh, God, I don't know it. Fucking ridiculous.
There was some absolutely stunning original people out there.
"There's nothing wrong with me."
Sioux cat woman...
That woman required a lot of skill, style and bravery...
to look like a cat.
There was a couple of years there
where it was stunning.
People that had no self-respect suddenly started to view themselves
as beautiful in not being beautiful.
Women started to appreciate themselves
as not second class citizens.
Punk made that clear.
I've always talked to the audience
in a one-to-one way after gigs.
"Where do you live? What's life like for you?"
Absolute basics.
# She put her bicycle #
# under a tree #
# I think that girl took a fancy to me... #
But it was fun, I guess, talking to them.
Actually, I didn't give a fuck about talking about the band,
I just wanted to get me dick sucked, really.
That was always the first thing on my mind.
I wasn't interested in talking about politics after the show,
I didn't even know who the fucking Prime Minister was at the time.
# Let's have a ride on your bike #
I pretty much just wanted to have a bunk-up,
Iike any good teenager does.
# I was born with a plastic spoon in my mouth... #
# You didn't look me in the eye #
# Crocodile tears are what you cry #
"Substitute" I liked...
but I only liked certain phrases in it.
So I'd twist them about.
# You're so fat, I see right through... #
"Oh, no you can't do that, it's a classic,"
says Glen.
Fuck off!
I think when we started writing our own stuff...
is when it got more interesting.
Because that's when it became our own musical force.
Glen was coming up with most of the ideas for songs,
and John would just be sitting in the corner,
scribbling his lyrics out, there and then,
while we were playing along to it.
We had something, we had a spirit.
But what we didn't have, we didn't have a way
of putting that into words...
which is what John had.
The first line I wrote, was "l am an antichrist,"
and I couldn't think of a damn thing that rhymed with it,
and "anarchist" just fitted really nicely.
The only thing I didn't like about "Anarchy"
was the dreadful rhyme --
"antichrist -- anarchist," it used to always make me wince.
Oh, some decent fucking music at last!
# Right... #
# Now #
# I am an antichrist #
# I am an anarchist #
# Don't know what I want, but I know how to get it #
# I wanna destroy passerby #
# 'Cause l... #
# Wanna be... #
# Anarchy #
This band wasn't about making people happy,
it was attack --
attack, attack, attack.
# Anarchy for the UK #
# It's coming sometime maybe #
# I give a wrong time, stop a traffic line #
# Your future dream is a shopping scheme #
# 'Cause l... #
# I wanna be... #
# Anarchy #
Sid, he was the total Pistols fan, really.
I fucking loved that band.
Along with a couple of other kids that knew John,
I think I was about the biggest fan they ever had.
# How many ways to get what you want #
# I use the best I use the rest... #
Rotten was like, incredible.
Just like unbelievable.
And Steve was fucking great as well.
Glen was a cunt, as always.
# Wanna be... #
# Anarchy #
What made the Sex Pistols different was John Rotten,
'cause he was a total anti-star.
He didn't like wiggle his bum or shake his hips,
he did robot dances, and just fucked around,
and took the piss out of everybody
in a real nasty, snidy way.
# ls this the MPLA #
# Or is this the UDA #
# Or is this the IRA #
# I thought it was the UK... #
The Bromley Contingent all the front row lot,
they all ended up in bands,
hence you got the punk movement.
# I am an antichrist #
# I am an anarchist #
To see us playing like, just three chords
gave the message that anybody could do this.
Which was great -- all these other bands started --
I enjoyed watching the Clash, I enjoyed the Damned.
Itjust happened so quick, and it was so exciting,
you'd think, "Wow, there's really a movement starting here."
One chick came down one night
wearing a polka dot see-through mac --
and nothing else.
I actually saw one tourist stagger as she came into the club.
He was so amazed by her appearance.
Sid was amazing, because he was
a stand out character in the crowd,
because he wasn't in the band then.
He invented the pogo all by himself.
He'd just sort ofjump on the shoulders of some people
to get a better look.
In the end he just started jumping up and down anyway.
Yeah, I started it 'cause I hated the Bromley Contingent,
and I invented a dance that would involve
being able to knock them all over the fucking "1 00 Club,"
so I just used to throw myself about.
Leap up like horizontal, and sideways,
just like boing...
Boing, boing, boing.
You'd like land on them, and smash them into the floor.
Yeah...
My name is Nick Kent.
I'm a...
A once-renowned journalist for "The New Musical Express."
Well, Sid, as he was known then,
who I'd encountered once before, I'd not actually met him --
was obviously under the influence
of some sort of amphetamines
or extreme adrenaline propulsing stimulants.
Sid Vicious was looking for a fight.
Just fucking watch out, pal, all right?
Or otherwise I'll fucking slice you open.
He hit me over the head a few times with a chain,
which didn't require any stitches, fortunately.
I sort of wandered upstairs in a complete...
Iather of blood and confusion.
I truly admire their attitude,
I thought it was... very brave.
Immediately before this attack occurred,
John Rotten was deep in discussion with Sid.
I figure that John was -- "Johnny" -- as he's known,
was setting me up, 'cause this is all true.
In fact, Sid got the name "Vicious" from that fight.
John Rotten christened him "Vicious" from that fight.
Said he, falling against the door.
Sid Vicious got the name after my pet hamster,
that bit him one day...
when he was trying to be sweet to it.
And its name was Sid, and he really liked that.
"Your Sid was vicious."
The group were doing a very private, I think, secret show,
at "The Screen on the Green," lslington.
I went along with a couple of our A&R people,
and Chris Wright, the chairman.
Knocked on the door, somebody opened the door, and said, "Fuck off!"
Well we weren't gonna be dissuaded,
so we sort of tapped on the door again and said, "We're invited."
And a head popped 'round again, and said, "Fuck Off!"
They were a particularly ugly band.
# We're so pretty, oh, so pretty #
# We're vacant #
# We're so pretty, oh, so pretty #
# Vacant #
# Don't ask us to attend 'cause we're not all there #
# Don't pretend, 'cause I don't care #
And there was only a little bit of a scuffle, nothing much.
I've known musicians to defend themselves
if the thing goes onto the stage,
But I've never seen musicians drop their instruments
And sort of dive in at a small scrap
And extend it, and forget about the music.
And I found that a bit much.
I went back two or three times after that,
just to make sure that... you know, they were as bad
as I thought they were the first time.
# ...and we don't care! #
Ever!
Why all the infamous language?
"lnfamous language"? You're joking.
I speak nothing but the fucking English language.
And if that's "lnfamous," Then, huh-huh-huh, tough titters.
Basically, the Pistols' attitude to the press
was one of completely like "Fuck you," you know?
I mean, just absolutely "Fuck you."
Which was great -- I mean, it was the perfect antidote
to all the 99% of other stupid rock groups
who like, licked the arse of the press,
and, I mean, it worked perfectly for them.
Mostjournalists are masochists.
They're just toss pots, most of them.
Don't accept the old order. Get rid of it.
We've been there for five years or more,
just waiting for this to happen, and now it's happened.
It had to, it was the only thing that could happen.
It was the only thing that didn't come from the industry --
it came from the kids themselves. Something had to come from the kids.
# Come on and join us #
# We're the young nation #
# Come on and join us #
# Nationwide... #
# Right... #
# Now #
# I am an antichrist #
# I am an anarchist... #
This group are leaders of a whole new teenage cult
that seems to be on the way to being as big
as mods and rockers were in the '60s.
The cult is called "punk," the music, "punk rock."
Basic rock music -- raw, outrageous and crude,
Iike their fan magazine, "Sniffing Glue."
I think our music is very honest.
It's the most honest thing that's been happening in the last 1 5 years.
Nothing to beat it.
Finding places to play is becoming harder,
thanks to the reputation punks are getting as troublemakers,
and the Sex Pistols themselves even had to hire a strip club
to get their music heard. Nowhere else would take them.
# Anarchy #
From the street.
I find the Pistols very believable,
I find it's all related to violence...
in the mind, not in the body.
Malcolm began to get a little bit serious about it,
and he brought in a lawyer by the name of Fisher...
That dreadful lawyer whose name I refuse to speak --
There was...
basically an auction between Polydor and EMl.
We came up with a contract which gave the Pistols
total creative control.
Malcolm decided to go with EMl.
I went into the A&R department, I said,
"Who are these crazy guys?"
They said, "lt's the Sex Pistols, we just signed them.
They're tremendous."
And my first actual plug for them was, after all this,
was by phoning up the "Today" program.
They phoned back, said, "Yes...
We'd like to use the Sex Pistols," you know,
"Will that be okay?" I said, "l'm sure it'll be all right."
They slung us in the green room, with a fridge,
and I remember downing
about fucking four bottles of "Blue Nun,"
and I was fucking just -- having a good old time,
pissed at this point, by the time we went out there.
And that's all I remember.
They are "punk rockers." the new craze, they tell me.
They are heroes --
not the nice, clean, Rolling Stones.
They are as drunk as I am. They are clean by comparison,
they are a group called "the Sex Pistols,"
I am told that that group...
have received £40,000 from a record company.
Doesn't that seem to be slightly opposed
to their anti-materialistic view of life?
- No, the more, the merrier. - Really?
- Oh, yeah. - Tell me more about it.
We've fucking spent it.
- I don't know. Have you? - Yeah, it's all gone.
No one even heard that one, 'cause he was drunk himself,
and he wasn't paying attention when he asked,
"What did you do with the money?" and I said, "We fucking spent it."
- Tell me more about it. - We've fucking spent it.
- I don't know. Have you? - Yeah, it's all gone.
- Really? - Down the boozer.
Really? Good Lord!
Now, I want to know one thing:
Beethoven, Mozart, Bach and Brahms have all died...
- They're all heroes of ours. - Really? What were you saying?
- They're wonderful people. - Are they?
- Yes, they really turn us on. - But they're dead.
Suppose they turn other people on?
That's just their tough shit.
Rotten, he slipped up and said "shit" under his breath.
- It's what? - Nothing, a rude word.
- Next question. - No, no...
What was the rude word?
- Shit. - Was it really? Good heavens.
- You frighten me to death. - All right, so you play games...
He's like your dad, ain't he, this geezer?
Or your granddad.
Are you worried, or are you just enjoying yourself?
- Enjoying myself. - Are you?
That's what I thought.
- I always wanted to meet you. - Did you really?
Siouxsie, she was just being coy with him,
And he said, "Oh, maybe we'll meet after?"
We'll meet afterwards, shall we?
You dirty sod. You dirty old man.
Steve completely understood
that he was talking to a drunk
as you would a drunk in a pub,
and he just topped him.
Go on, you've got another five seconds,
- say something outrageous. - You dirty bastard.
I just remember this fucking cunt
just started provoking us, and we coated him off.
- Go on -- again. - You dirty fucker.
- What a clever boy. - What a fucking rotter.
That's it for tonight. The other rocker, Eamonn,
and I'm saying nothing else about him, will be back tomorrow.
I'll be seeing you soon. I hope I'm not seeing you again.
From me, though, goodnight.
McLaren was there. He was terrified.
He was shitting himself.
He was death-white, you know, going
"We'd fucking better get out of here, quick!"
But the very next day, it was all his big idea.
It was perfect stand-up comedy. It was Arthur Askey.
# Well, I don't mind the things that you say #
# I don't even mind goin' out of my way #
# I try and do these things for you #
# Why should I do it? I'm always untrue #
That's all, a four letter word done everything.
# Goin' outta my head #
I loved it...
I fucking loved it. It was like finally, I've arrived.
Let the circus begin.
# The bog is no place to see your face... #
The committee have decided,
that in fairness to the public of Derby,
the Sex Pistols will not perform here tonight,
but we are quite agreeable that the three other groups
that have already been booked will go on.
For the last 1 2 months, punk rock has become
almost a battle cry in British society.
For many people, it's a bigger threat to our way of life
than Russian Communism or hyper-inflation,
and it generates more popular excitement than either of those.
We hope tonight, by this protest
to make Wales know, and to let the people of this town know,
that we do protest and it is by no fault of ours,
that this thing has come to Caerphilly.
When your local council didn't ban the punk rock concert,
you actually went down there and tried to stop it yourself?
No, we never went to stop it at any time.
We went there with a very positive Gospel message.
We have done everything humanly possible
to ban this thing and to stop it.
Sir, can I ask you why you're here tonight?
Because I am... recognized as a Christian.
If I thought one of mine was in there, I'd go drag them out.
They're outside, freezing. We're in here, we're all right.
This one's about Harold Wilson --
It's called "Liar."
# You lie, lie, lie, lie lie... #
# Sleep in heavenly peace #
# Should have realized... #
On the "Anarchy" tour we was actually followed
everywhere across the country, from gig to gig,
and we had to turn up to show willingness to play,
so presumably we would get the money,
although it looked pound to a penny that they wasn't gonna let us play.
Mr. Stabler, you can't watch punk concerts in Newcastle either?
The decision was made when we discovered it was mere children
that would be watching the performance.
The average adult will go see a strip show, or a blue film.
Banned in this town, and being banned in that town.
And it really wasn't about us playing any more,
it was about this controversy that we were like,
throwing up on stage, and spitting.
And I remember going across the Pennines,
being followed by a fleet of press people,
and we went to stop to get coffee and a sandwich,
and we could hear what these press people were saying.
One press guy said to the other,
"Did you get anything?" and the other one said,
"l got two 'fucks' and a 'shit' from Johnny Rotten."
Can I now turn to Bernard Brook-Partridge in London...
Most of these groups would be vastly improved by sudden death.
The worst, currently, are the Sex Pistols.
They are the antithesis of humankind...
And the whole world would be vastly improved
by their total and utter non-existence.
# You're a liar #
# Lie, lie, lie, lie... #
The day Johnny Rotten goes back on the words he writes in his songs,
is the day he dies. I know that for a fact.
I think people did feel that this was...
this was a sort of a downhill thing,
and was a monster in our presence, and actually would,
cause problems of image for the record industry.
At that point, someone at EMI took the decision
that they no longer wished to have the act on the label.
This is about EMl.
They're major labels with major attitudes,
and they want everything to be fake and easily manipulative.
And you can't be having that with people like us.
- Let's call it chaos! - Itjust doesn't happen.
# An unlimited supply #
# And there is no reason why #
They told us that they were unable
to continue to promote the act --
and would we kindly leave.
# E-M-l #
"Let's call it chaos!"
# E-M-l #
"Let's call it chaos!"
# E-M-l #
"Let's call it chaos!"
Ouch.
# ...With an unlimited supply #
# That was the only reason #
# We all had to say goodbye #
# Unlimited supply -- E-M-l #
# There is no reason why -- E-M-l #
# Unlimited supply #
# E-M-l #
# Hello, EMI #
# Good -- bye! #
It started with John and Glen falling out, really.
Over what, I don't really know,
just a clash of personalities, et cetera.
When you talk like an arsehole...
and look like an arsehole, you're an arsehole.
There was obviously a big problem between me and John.
I felt that once John got his face in the papers,
he'd become a different person --
which I didn't particularly like.
When we went to Holland, my last gig with them was at the Paradiso.
I felt everybody was on my case.
He was always complaining that we were too outrageous,
and it's a funny thing, but he was always washing himself.
Whenever we'd get into a hotel,
he'd be washing his fucking feet in the sink.
Me and Steve were like that, I suppose,
and John always felt on the outside.
He thought by bringing Sid in, he would have someone there,
Iike a partner, you know?
Someone a bit closer to him.
I'd heard that they'd been rehearsing with Sid.
Nobody had the courtesy to tell me.
...:::Lord Sadler:::... lordsadler2012@gmail.com
It had become like a cartoon strip band,
as opposed to a rock and roll band that actually plays
and does something for real.
# I got no emotions for anybody else #
# You better understand I'm in love with myself #
Glen had reached a point where he decided
that the band's direction was absolutely alien
to anything he wanted to be associated with.
That's absolute bollocks.
I think one of Malcolm's games was, sort of divide and conquer.
Malcolm had told John I'd said a lot of stuff
which I hadn't said, and Malcolm had told me
John had said a lot of stuff that he hadn't said.
I respect him. I always did.
He taught them to play.
I kind of regretted him leaving...
because Sid couldn't play a fucking note.
# ...see his picture hanging on your wall #
I feel guilty about Sid,
because I wish I could have told him more...
about what to expect.
Well... I was getting my own group together,
"The Flowers of Romance,"
and Rotten asked me if I wanted to join the --
there was this big hoo-ha, and Malcolm said,
"lt's all a big secret, man," you know...
"Come down to this pub at such and such and that,"
and I thought they were gonna do me over
'cause I didn't turn up to one of Rotten's parties or something.
He gets touchy over things like that.
And... I went down there and he said,
"Do you wanna play bass for the Sex Pistols?"
# Turn the page and it's the scoop of the century #
# Don't wanna be I seven I've had enough of this #
# This is brainwash and this is a clue #
# To the stars who fooled you #
Sid was my mate.
Very, very close mate.
He'd just -- Iaugh at everything.
Genius in that way, and his name was John.
# I got you in the camera, I got you in my camera #
# A second of your life ruined for life #
We'd do lots of mad things together, me and Sid.
We used to busk too, for money...
Me with a violin, Sid with a tambourine,
maybe a broken guitar, doing Alice Cooper songs.
"l Love the Dead" was our favorite.
That would get us the most money.
"Just please shut up."
"Here -- take the money, go somewhere else."
Why dost thou spit -- at me?
The best time of the band of all was when Sid firstjoined,
and he was really determined to learn the bass
and fit in and be part of the band.
He definitely looked great, Sid...
Yeah, he definitely was a face. A real laugh.
He used to take the piss out of Rotten.
All I did was cash in on the fact
that I'm good-looking, and I have a good figure,
and girls like me.
What do they want, a fucking angel in flares and an anorak?
'Cause if they want that...
that ain't me, baby.
Found myself in this rather curious little shop,
in the company of Johnny Rotten, Sid Vicious,
and other assorted Sex Pistols.
Hello, Mr. Nimmo.
And the last they heard, a donkey had him cornered
up a back alley in Fulham.
After EMI dumped the Sex Pistols,
A&M Records picked them up,
and staged a contract signing ceremony
in front of Buckingham Palace.
Malcolm was honest in one respect...
That he always said he had no control over us.
And he didn't.
And a bloody good punch-up, in a limo,
before a signing was not really unusual.
It was a good fight, too.
"No, you're the biggest cunt,"
"No, you're the worst cunt,"
"No, you're the cunt," et cetera, et cetera.
There was only one cunt I wanted to smack,
and that was Malcolm. Then the door opened,
and then we had to do the signing.
At this point, the Sex Pistols,
despite having been fired, were not exactly suffering.
Here they were, signing a new contract
that could make them a lot of money,
and they already had a song to record for A&M
in honor of the Queen's jubilee.
Sid's father was a Grenadier guard.
Imagine that -- Sid signing a very, very expensive contract,
while his old man's on guard inside the fence.
It was genius.
According to the story, after this happy signing ceremony,
everyone went back to the A&M offices to celebrate.
The four Sex Pistols apparently overcelebrated,
and lived up to their public image
of thorough obnoxiousness.
- How are you doing? - Get away.
When we got to A&M records,
total bedlam broke out there as well.
I can't remember what happened,
but the secretaries were terrified,
and Sid's foot was bleeding.
I had a black eye, Malcolm was running around,
Steve was flirting with all the secretaries,
and then we got in the car, then went to the studio,
where we were recording "God Save the Queen" with Chris Thomas,
and there's this school next door, and all the kids come running out
'cause we were there. And they called the police as well.
It was just total mad day.
The next day we woke up, Malcolm said,
"Well, A&M have fired you."
The anti-establishment Sex Pistols
called in the establishment press
to protest what had happened to them.
We feel that we're like some contagious disease.
When you walk in and out of a company,
and the guyjust gives you -- "Look... Take this money
and don't come back."
What are you supposed to think about that?
Have you had the money?
Yes, they gave us the check last night.
Makes it very clear where their heads are at...
Nowhere.
We weren't the nice boys they thought we were.
We aren't nice boys.
We were fucking nasty little bastards.
And we still are.
Virgin Records signed them,
and Johnny Rotten got to record
his Queen's jubilee memorial song --
"God Save the Queen."
You don't write "God Save the Queen"
because you hate the English race.
You write a song like that because you love them,
and you're fed up with them being mistreated.
# God save the Queen #
# The fascist regime #
# They made you a moron #
# Potential H-bomb #
# God save the Queen #
# She ain't no human being #
# There is no future #
# ln England's dreamin' #
# Don't be told what you want #
# Don't be told what you need #
# There's no future, no future #
# No future for you #
# God save the Queen #
# We mean it, man #
# We love our Queen #
# God saves #
# God save the Queen #
# 'Cause tourists are money #
# Our figurehead... #
Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead.
# Oh, God save history #
# God save the mad parade #
# Oh, Lord God have mercy #
# All crimes are paid #
# When there's no future how can there be sin #
# We're the flowers in your dustbin #
# We're the poison in your human machine #
# We're the future -- your future #
# God save the Queen #
# We mean it, man #
# We love our Queen #
# God saves #
I really don't think what he was singing about was outrageous.
He's not saying "Let's kill her," or "Let's fuck her."
He was pointing out what the truth was.
# God save the Queen #
# We mean it, man #
# There is no future #
# ln England's dreaming #
# No future #
# No future for you #
# No future #
# No future for me #
Chop off his head, man.
# No future #
# No future for you #
# No future #
# No future for you #
It alienated the entire country.
If they'd have hung us at traitor's gate,
it would have been applauded by 56 million.
You can't beat that, man. That's National Gallery status.
It's raining silver in "The Sun" this week.
"God Save the Queen"
was the alternative national anthem.
What we offered to England...
was...
a pivotal point. We were the maypole
that they danced around.
# Go away, I hate you, hate you, hate you #
# Go away, I hate you, far across the sea #
Where better to celebrate the release of "God Save the Queen"
than down the Thames, and start playing
outside the Houses of Parliament?
"God Save the Queen," and "Anarchy in the UK" on Jubilee Day.
I just wanted out of the country --
and there was no way out.
Ever get the feeling you've been trapped?
This is obscene, the whole thing.
All of this, it's bullshit.
Well, I've had enough of your bullshit.
I'm too cold now. I'm going back downstairs.
I loved it. I was getting my 20 quid a week,
thinking everything was great.
I didn't wanna fucking deal with the business side of it,
I didn't really question it.
I was McLaren's friend before the band,
so I trusted McLaren like a friend.
# Too many problems why am I here #
# Don't need to be me 'cause you're all too clear #
# I can see there's something wrong with you #
# But what do you expect me to do? #
# At least I gotta know what I wanna be #
# Don't come to me if you need pity #
# Are you lonely you got no one #
# You get your body in suspension #
# That's no problem #
# Problems #
# Problems the problem is you #
The reason we're here is because it's the Sex Pistols.
If it wasn't the Sex Pistols there'd be no interest in this,
in this... boat tonight.
Look, we've got Richard Branson looking like "Catweazel."
# They know a doctor gonna take you away #
# They take you away and throw away the key #
# They don't want you and they don't want me #
# You got a problem... #
What happened to Malcolm?
# Problems, problems #
# Problems, problems... #
# Problems... problems... #
# Problems... problems. #
We declared war on england...
without meaning to.
At eight, the Muppets' "Halfway Down the Stairs,"
at seven, the Alessi Brothers and "O, Lori,"
at number six, Emerson, Lake and Palmer
and "Fanfare for the Common Man,"
at five, The Electric Light Orchestra, "Phone Line,"
four -- Stranglers and "Peaches,"
three -- Queen, "Lover Boy,"
and two, Eagles, "Hotel California,"
the Sex Pistols' current record "God Save the Queen"
is at number one in the Capital Hit Line today.
But the IBA, which administers the broadcasting act
has advised us that particularly at this time,
this record is likely to cause offense
to a number of our listeners,
and have asked us not to play it in our normal programming.
"God Save the Queen" was never number one.
There was no number one that week.
Whatever we were saying and doing
really hit a nerve, a raw nerve.
It was fucked up.
I still had to bunk on the subways,
couldn't afford a cab,
and all of that the management didn't want to deal with.
Completely from there on in,
walking around the streets of London
on my own, was impossible.
I would be attacked on sight.
You felt like a werewolf being, like hounded.
Constantly in fear of your life, really.
"God Save the Queen", eh, John?
I got a machete blade ripped down this leg,
and the blade stuck in my kneecap...
and they couldn't pull it out,
so I had to like, walk off with that.
I got a stiletto blade through my wrist here,
Iucky not to have had one of my eyes gouged out,
'cause a bottle was shoved in here.
Got to the hospital...
first thing they do is call the police.
And I get arrested for "suspicion of causing an affray."
And the telephone call from the editor...
who would say, "Malcolm, we'll print anything,
'cause you sell more papers
than we ever did on Armistice Day."
It's 7:00 on Wednesday, the 1 7th of August.
Elvis Presley, at one time known to millions
as "The King of Rock and Roll,"
has died suddenly at the age of 42.
The king of rock and roll died yesterday.
He was found face down on a bathroom floor.
There had been numerous reports
that Presley was a heavy drug user.
All that time when Malcolm was saying,
"We can't get gigs in the UK," we could have played abroad.
We could have fucking done that, couldn't we, Julien?
Who needs the fucking UK? It's a load offucking shit.
Got a lot of wax in my ears today.
So we were left doing nothing. I was just sitting there,
with -- Iike, we didn't even fucking rehearse,
nobody wanted to fucking rehearse or do anything.
So, like, you know -- it's a logical conclusion,
d'you know what I mean? Boredom...
And, like, I'm that way inclined so what do I turn to?
No, I couldn't take them off.
My nose is broken, I'm keeping them on.
And she showed up with Sid, and I was thinking,
"Who the fuck is this cunt? This is an 'orrible person."
It was like, the weirdest thing...
I'd never felt such a negative energy from someone.
There was just a dark cloud...
Over this bird, and I fucking hated her.
The first time I came across Nancy,
I think Steve was shagging her in the toilet.
I didn't like her.
Nancy was a hooker...
That was on the coattails of the "New York Dolls."
And I actually introduced her to Sid.
Shame on me.
In New York I was dancing without any clothes on.
I used to go down to the guys and dance in front of them,
and then get tips off them,
and you'd do a little hand job, you know,
for... ten bucks, or they wanted to fuck.
I just -- you know...
did it, you know, I just --
there wasn't really anything to it,
I just give good blowjobs.
"lt'll rip your balls off."
I read the first Sex Pistols review,
which was shit, and I said, "l gotta get over there."
I wanted to see something exciting.
Nancy, as his heroin dealer/ girlfriend...
Was pumping him up with gear every chance she could get.
He didn't like me 'cause I was ajunkie.
He tried to keep me and Sid apart for months,
months, months.
Everyone knows when a bird starts poking her nose
into a rock and roll band, that it's suicidal.
'Cause that's when he really started getting fucked up,
and not caring about playing.
And I didn't want anything to do with her.
We did everything to get rid of Nancy
that was physically possible.
I even dangled her
out of a window one night, by her ankles.
And the rest of the band hated me...
'cause I was with the New York Dolls --
Johnny and Jerry, and they were junkies.
# Fix #
# My baby... #
They definitely brought a lot of heroin around, too.
And I know Sid was totally into Johnny Thunders.
I like the New York Dolls,
'cause they were nasty and mean, and they wore makeup,
and they didn't give a shit.
And they played godawful rock and roll.
And they had good names, and good hairdos.
It definitely had a big effect on me.
I thought he was the coolest thing ever --
Thunders, at that time.
I started stealing some of his stances,
and his looks, and, you know, his moves on stage.
I look back at it now, and I'm embarrassed
at how much I fucking was trying to copy him.
I didn't need to do that. I had my own thing already.
My invention to the Sex Pistols
was the hanky on the head.
It was kind offunny, actually, when I used to see fans doing it,
I thought, "Oh, look, they're doing something I invented."
Cunt, shit, bollocks.
Bill Grundy's a poof!
Because I've made my self-esteem rise an inch.
Leatherjackets came with the heroin.
Vampirish goth look came with the heroin.
This ruined Sid...
Here, want one of these?
Because he was a complete gullible fashion victim.
Sid went straight into the worst kind of rock and roll idiot
you could ever hope to have a nightmare about.
He didn't get that what we were doing was --
Who wants some safety pins?
Our culture, our life.
Who else wants something?
Come on if you want something, you cunts!
Alls I can tell you is yes, I can take on England,
but I couldn't take on one heroin addict.
Oh, look, Sid.
At a time where we should have been the tightest,
it couldn't be looser.
# There's no point in asking, you'll get no reply #
# Oh, just remember I don't decide #
# I got no reason, it's all too much #
# You'll always find us #
# Out to lunch #
# We're so pretty, oh, so pretty #
# We're vacant #
It's a pity in a way. All these rich kids...
Becoming punks. I find that revolting.
It's like an army now,
a faction -- chic.
I'm not chic.
I could never be chic.
I was in it from its inception.
# There's no point in asking, you'll get no reply #
# Just remember I don't decide #
The punks ruined it...
They adopted a uniform image in attitude,
and the whole thing was about being yourself.
# We're so pretty, oh, so pretty... #
# Ah... vacant #
The cliche punk look which became the postcard punk
with a Mohican, and all black, with spiky hair and all that.
It was never like that to start with.
They didn't have the money
to go out and buy a 50 quid leatherjacket
it was very much a do-it-yourself kind of thing, you know?
# ...and we don't care #
And all those garbage, trashy bands --
basically all saying, "Yeah, we're a punk band,"
wrecked it outright. It became acceptable --
absorbed back into the system.
The shitstem.
# We're pretty... #
# Pretty vacant #
I'm a punk!
# And we don't care! #
Mummy, mummy, come quick!
They've killed Bambi!
"Who killed Bambi" was Malcolm's idea.
We were musicians. We didn't want to make a film.
Malcolm was very good at spending other people's money.
But there was a load being put into the film
from the band's royalties, which we didn't know about.
I rememberjust turning up to do a scene...
there was this guy there, I thought, "Oh, he looks familiar..."
Do you know the way to Hindley Airfield, mate?
And I said, "l know you from somewhere,"
and it was Sting.
It was his motion picture debut, I believe.
So it's flying lessons you're after, is it?
Well, you've come to the right place, Sex Pistol.
Be advised, drummer boy...
We're the sensational new Blow Waves,
and we know how to sell more records
than Malcolm McLaren.
And I knew that it was just trash,
rubbishing the whole point and purpose.
We believe in rock and roll,
and we don't need you, Sex Pistol.
The record companies know
that our music means more to them
than your sick anarchy ever did.
Get out of my car, you cunts!
He used to really get the hump, McLaren,
when we started asking for money,
so I stopped asking for it.
We never had our own lawyer, which is insanity.
That's the closest thing to being in one of these boy bands --
is that they all get reamed,
and we were getting reamed in that department.
How can you be a Sex Pistol with no money?
You ring the office, you get zero response,
your checks weren't paid,
no rent, no earnings, a complete disaster.
It was wonderful. "God Save the Queen"!
It was a monkey's tea party.
What the fuck was the manager doing?
The one that claimed that he was manipulating everything --
manipulated nothing.
He was clueless at that point.
Once we said, "We're fucking leaving the group
unless you fucking get us some gigs, you stupid little cunt,"
he got something together the next day.
Well, he could have done that all the time.
"Spots" was a good one -- Sex Pistols on tour.
But I thought it was dreadful that we had to, like,
not be ourselves, and go under secret monikers.
I'm a Sex Pistol, and that's it.
And we just did these secret gigs in the small clubs,
and it was just packed with fans who'd never seen us.
And they were like the best shows, man.
They were fucking great.
# A cheap holiday in other people's misery #
# I don't want a holiday in the sun #
# I wanna go to the new Belsen #
# I wanna see some history #
# 'Cause now I got a reasonable economy #
# Now I got a reason, now I got a reason #
# Now I got a reason, and I'm still waiting #
# Now I got a reason, now I got a reason #
# To be waiting #
# The berlin wall #
I thought "Holidays in the Sun" was our crowning glory.
# Sensurround sound in a two-inch wall #
# I was waiting for the communist call #
# I didn't ask for sunshine and I got World War Ill #
# I'm looking over the wall and they're looking at me #
# Now I got a reason, now I got a reason #
# Now I got a reason, and I'm still waiting #
# Now I got a reason, now I got a reason #
# To be waiting #
# The Berlin Wall #
Huddersfield, I remember very fondly.
Two concerts, a matinee,
with children throwing pies at me,
and later on that night, striking union members.
It was heaven.
He wants dad back at work,
which I think is a very good idea, indeed.
It was like our Christmas party, really.
I remember everyone being really relaxed that day.
Everyone was getting on really well,
and everyone was in such a great mood.
'Cause it was a benefit for the kids
offiremen who were on strike around that time,
and who'd been on strike for a long time.
And I've written to Santa Claus today,
and I have got you a skateboard.
Lot of love in the house,
and Sid was great that day.
Everything about it was just wonderful.
Okay, gang, this party is given to you absolutely free
and at the expense of the Sex Pistols,
so let's have a big cheer for the Sex Pistols.
Come on, let's hear you!
# She was a girl from Birmingham #
# She just had an abortion #
# She was a case of insanity #
# Her name was pauline, she lived in a tree #
# She was a no one who killed her baby #
# She sent her letter from the country #
# She was an animal #
# She was a bloody disgrace #
# Body #
# I'm not an animal #
# Body #
# I'm not an animal #
It's not a question of an Ml5 blacklist,
there are certain groups whom we do not regard with favor,
and whom I personally will do everything I can
within the law to prevent ever coming to London again.
# Fuck this and fuck that #
# Fuck it all and fuck the fucking brat #
# She don't want a baby who looks like that #
# I don't want a baby who looks like that #
# Body #
# I'm not an animal #
# Body #
# An unborn kid #
# An animal #
# I'm not an animal #
# I'm not an animal, an animal #
# I'm not an animal I ain't no animal #
# I'm not a body #
# I'm not an animal, an animal #
# I ain't no an animal I'm not an animal #
# I'm not an animal... #
# Mommy! #
I think that was our last gig in England.
- Who's this? - Sex Pistols.
Sid Vicious?
Yes.
This is Rodney Bingenheimer from "Rodney on the Roq" show.
Oh, hi, man. No future.
Is Johnny Rotten there?
- Yeah. - Hey, how are you doing?
I'm doing all right.
You'll be coming to America soon, won't you?
Get work, move to California.
- Come to California - It's the best.
Oh, I don't know...
Can you get egg and chips?
You can do anything you want here, man.
No one is repressed in L.A.
Oh, yes you are. Mentally repressed, dear.
Right -- that's true.
This week on Don Kirshner's Rock Concert...
The incredible Kansas...
Family Funk from the Sylvers...
The outrageousness of the Sex Pistols.
Some slick dealing from Ricky Jay,
and funnyman Robert Aguayo.
We had trouble getting our visas
'cause we had criminal records, all of us.
They strip-searched us at the airport,
and thank god Sid was the first one they strip-searched,
'Cause as soon as they've seen his underwear...
That was it, we were safe.
They had no wish to play
with the rest of our willies after that point.
Across the globe
they achieved a notoriety in 19 languages.
In the city, voted "Young businessmen of the year"
by the lnvestors' Review.
On Fleet Street, they sold more papers
than the Armistice.
They didn't care about the music --
they were purely into chaos.
Security was tight for the arrival
of the infamous punk rock group known as the Sex Pistols,
that naughty bunch of counter-culture radicals.
Warner records had warned
that the group might attack members of the American Press,
but when Steve Jones, Paul Cook,
Johnny Rotten, and Sid Vicious arrived,
this is what they had to say...
Nothing.
Well, coming to America...
was definitely a strange experience.
Ow-ww! Fucking kick me in the fucking balls?
We had, like, these bodyguards...
With walkie-talkies, and that...
Continually followed by, like, FBI
and fucking CIA, and 50 journalists.
It was kinda scary.
And here they are -- at least two of them --
in a hotel room in Atlanta,
waiting for the other two to do a promised interview.
But they're in a strange mood...
Flaky -- demanding they be paid ten bucks
before they'll do any "bleep-bleep" interview.
Denied that, they stomp off.
"Bleep," they say.
When the four young men left, their spit was on the carpet,
their butts on the floor.
The dregs of an afternoon's beer and booze,
and a couple of empty boxes of Clearasil.
They left the hotel to go to a sex devices store,
and then to their first concert in America.
We didn't come from America, we didn't understand America,
so how the fuck could they understand us?
Okay, all you cowboys.
You faggots!
And I said, "You fucking motherfucking faggot cowboys."
They were throwing a rain of bottles and beer cans,
and pigs' noses, and fuck knows what.
Anarchy in...
I got a full can of beer smashed right on my lip.
The U-S of A.
Fucking big fat lip with blood dripping down it.
The gigs were pretty frightening,
'cause of all the publicity that had preceded us.
People were coming there just to see this freak show.
They thought we were gonna be sick on stage,
crap on stage, beat each other up,
kill each other -- well, it was partly true.
# I am an antichrist #
# I am an anarchist... #
Then Sid started beating himself,
cutting himself on stage, and totally being out to lunch.
# l... #
# Wanna be #
Birds were better looking in America, that's for sure.
I really enjoyed that part of it,
and they knew how to suck dick.
They learn at an early age here.
Sid loved the Pistols --
as a fan...
but being on stage with us, he couldn't cope.
He wasn't being himself anymore,
he was trying to be Johnny Rotten...
with the drugs.
And that showed, I think, to my mind, very bad.
The fucking Texas patrolmen took me...
and threw me out the door.
And they have the authority 'cause they have a badge,
and they have a fucking billy club and a gun.
Malcolm, he liked the idea of Sid being outrageous,
however much it fucked things up for the band.
I think he encouraged him. I remember Sid saying once...
"He could never be outrageous enough."
And Malcolm's going, "Yes, yes, I agree."
"You can go mad, go all the way."
It says to me that I should do what I wanna do, you know?
And just fuck everybody else.
Just fuck everybody else, you know? Just fuck 'em.
They moved me, they made me shake
more than I've ever shook before,
and that's what... what makes them the best.
I think I heard one time that they...
urinated on the audience one time.
Why, I don't know. Itjust sounds goofy.
- Get outta here! - What are they saying?
Get outta here!
It's better than homework.
Get the fuck outta here!
You faggot fucker!
Yeah, the guy fucking tried to climb up on stage
and fucking attack me,
so I smashed his fucking brains in with my guitar.
He knew that I meant physical harm,
and I have to say I was ugly about it.
But he came out and hit us over the head with the bass.
They were great.
If I could only make out the words, they'd be greater.
That was my first time in America.
Sid would sit next to me, and we'd look out the window,
and we'd stare at that endless scenery,
and imagine John Wayne and the indians.
You wouldn't sleep. You wouldn't want to,
because it was so first time.
Steve and paul flew around America with Malcolm.
Steven, what kind of badge you got?
I don't know. Safety department.
That's very good.
Say goodbye. Say goodbye.
They didn't want to be on the tour bus,
'cause they were "really bored with that reggae, man."
Steve and Paul are a pair of sheep.
They do what Malcolm says.
Sid was just looking for smack,
and being an idiot. Rotten got into his ego...
itjust got really depressing, really quick.
But the point is, Sid's my mate,
and I don't want him to be ajunkie.
This is why we traveled on the bus,
this is why Sid was to stick with me,
and like, the others just didn't understand.
They thought, "Oh, you can handle it, man."
But, like, dope sickness isn't like that.
It's not something that you can just blow away.
It's the worst sickness you could ever imagine.
He was far too young for that shit,
and un-american for that shit.
I can drink, and I can drink a druggie
out of being a druggie.
And I will do that for my friends,
every time, any time.
You can't get comfortable, and you sweat...
and you're boiling hot and you pour with sweat.
And your nose dribbles and...
and all of a sudden you get the colds,
and the sweat turns to fucking ice on you,
and you put ajumper on.
Then you're boiling hot again, and you take it off, and, like,
you get cold again and, like, you just can't win.
And you lie down, and that's not comfortable,
you sit up, that's not comfortable. It drives you insane.
I despise Sid for it,
and I'll despise anyone for messing with it ever since.
It is the only drug that really cancels out all creativity.
It is about self-pity.
It is the lowest, worst form of life.
Well, he wasn't even playing at the end.
You know, he could barely play it anyway.
Half the time he wasn't even plugged in.
It was like ajoke. It was like...
"What the fuck am I up here for?
What am I doing with this fucking, like, kind of circus?"
I just didn't want any part of it.
In the end, like, I was the only one
who had any anarchy left in me.
The rest of the band, they couldn't fucking take it.
And then we got to, like... Like I said, San Francisco,
and Malcolm's in town,
and Sid goes off with Malcolm,
suddenly Sid comes back smacked up.
Winterland -- the final countdown.
It wasn't a rock and roll party.
It was more like a dying horse
that needed putting out of its misery.
But Malcolm saw it more as a media circus.
He didn't realize what a great band we were.
This is KSAM in San Francisco,
with the Sex Pistols, live from Winterland.
Throughout the show, people were hurling things at them.
From all over -- from above, from the sides,
from right down below -- and there were people
jumping up on stage and being carried off.
The stage is...
Here they come.
It's not really impossible in San Francisco
to have monitors that work.
...is it?
Is it impossible to have a sound check?
No.
Here's the encore of the Sex Pistols.
Malcolm would set it up to look ridiculous.
We were all cheated --
audience... and lead singer alike.
You'll get one number and one number only,
'cause I'm a lazy bastard.
You have to understand, they stayed in a very nice hotel.
This is "no fun."
Me and Sid were not allowed in that very nice hotel.
We had to stay with the road crew in a motel.
The sheer lack of respect... for Malcolm --
and him not returning a call --
that was it for me.
It wasn't connived at all.
We got to our hotel and booked in.
I wasn't aware that he didn't get a room there.
So he ended up staying somewhere else.
# No fun, my babe #
# No fun #
Malcolm was fucking with me.
I had no credit card, and no money, no ticket.
He was trying to wreck
the very thing that made the Sex Pistols great,
and he managed to achieve it that night.
# ...fun to be alone #
# ln love #
# With nobody else #
John came over, and we tried to have
a "clear the air" talk, and we said to him,
"l don't wanna carry on, really much longer
the way this is going. It's, like, just totally pointless.
Someone's gonna get killed, you know?"
John said he thought the problem was Malcolm,
and we should get rid of Malcolm and carry on,
and try and work it out that way.
# Fun to be alone #
# Walkin' by myself #
# Fun to be alone #
# ln love #
# With nobody else #
I didn't really hang out with John.
He was always draining to me. Took up a lot of energy.
Malcolm I got along with, so I kinda went on to McLaren's side.
Another thing I regret.
# Maybe call somebody on the telephone #
# Well come on, my babe #
# Come on #
I'd have dropped Sid in a second
at that particular point for the band,
because I knew he was fucking up.
# No fun... #
That's a load of cobblers.
I was just playing bass, and going crazy,
and leaping up and down. And he thought I was trying
to take over his position as the "New Johnny Rotten."
# No fun #
I don't wanna be ajunkie for the rest of my life.
I don't wanna be ajunkie at all.
I knew the second Sid would smack himself up again
that was the end.
# No -- no fun #
# No fun #
# Alone -- no fun #
# By myself, it's no fun... #
I was the one who said "l've had enough."
I couldn't handle it any more.
I didn't want nothing to do with Rotten and Vicious.
Oh, bollocks, why should I carry on?
I regret saying that I wanted out, and leaving.
I regret it, I really do.
And I apologized to John that I fucking bailed.
# No fun #
We might have continued if we'd have got rid of Malcolm.
# No fun... #
But that's just the way I felt.
And I couldn't get away from my feelings at the time.
I knew it had to end.
I didn't think it would end...
with them being total wanker cowards.
Steve and Paul fannied out on me.
The last show was the worst show I think we've ever played.
It was just like, this ain't going nowhere.
This ain't going anywhere, it's fucking over.
Cookie agreed, and we just fucked off.
The night the group split up,
Vicious was pulled off a plane at Kennedy Airport,
the victim of a drug overdose.
Despite all the hassles, what was it that you thought
the Pistols were really trying to do?
Was itjust like really kick the establishment up the arse?
Sid?
Sid, he's not interviewing me. Please try and wake up.
Ow-ww!
Sid, damn you!
Fuck.
Everybody was for Sid -- I mean, Sid was like...
I don't know if you saw any of the gigs,
but Sid was like, really shining out.
And John was being like, nothing.
The only people... the only two people that I can think of...
that I would like to play with...
Sid...?
Oh, my God...
I feel nothing but grief, sorrow and sadness for Sid.
To the point, like,
if I really like, talk about it,
I just fucking burst out in tears.
He was someone I really cared for.
You see? He's one of the Johns.
I care about every single one of the Johns.
The gang of Johns should have been the band.
- Wake up, Sid. - Yeah, okay. I'm waking up.
Now what's the next question?
I can't be more honest than that.
Don't drop it on me again.
Well, the room was... very bloody.
There was blood on the sheets, and blood on the mattress
there was tracks of blood leading into the bathroom,
where the body of the female was found lying under the sink.
She was stabbed in the stomach.
The whole thing lasted no more than three minutes,
and out they went. Vicious made no attempt
to duck the cameras waiting outside the courtroom,
but he refused to respond to any of the reporters' questions,
and shoved persistent microphones out of his path.
The grand jury will decide whether or not to indict Vicious for murder.
If indicted, the case moves to the Supreme Court for further action.
Vicious was ordered to Ryker's lsland.
If convicted of the stabbing death of Miss Spungen,
Vicious faces 1 5 years to life in prison.
# No fun... #
Are you having fun at the moment?
Are you kidding?
No, I'm not having fun at all.
Where would you like to be?
Under the ground.
Are you serious?
Oh, yeah.
I've lost my friend.
I couldn't have changed it. I was too young.
God, I wish I was smarter.
You can look back on it, and go,
"l could have done something."
He died, for fuck's sake.
Theyjust turned it into making money.
"Ha, ha, ha, ha..."
How hilarious for them.
Fucking cheek.
I'll hate them forever for doing that.
You can't get more evil than that. Can you, Julien? You know?
No respect.
Vicious... poor sod.
# No fun... #
# No fun! #
# No fun -- no fun #
# No fun... #
# No fun -- my babe #
# No fun #
# Fun to be alone #
# Walkin' by myself #
# Fun to be alone #
# ln love... #
And I said, "You fucking motherfucking faggot cowboys,
you can throw any fucking thing in the world at us,
and you won't get us off this stage."
# Maybe goin' out maybe stay at home #
# Maybe call somebody on the telephone #
# Come on #
# No fun #
We gave it fucking 200 percent
for, like two years, and that was it.
I think we run out of steam.
You dirty fucker.
I loved being a Sex Pistol.
I'll always be a Sex Pistol.
But at least, you know, when I die
at least I can say I've done something.
# No fun... #
Press the self-destruct button, and start again.
Which is what it was all about.
# No fun... #
So creating something called the Sex Pistols
was my painting, my sculpture,
my little artful dodgers.
Are you still waffling, Malcolm?
The Sex Pistols ended
at exactly the right time for all the wrong reasons,
but the wrong reasons were continued,
and people continued to perpetrate lies --
about a reality.
Ah, ha, ha...
Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?
Goodnight.
We did what we had to do...
and that's why we didn't survive.
Only the fakes survive.
All I want is for future generations
to just go, "Fuck it, I've had enough,
here's the truth."
Infamy, infamy!
They've all got it in for me.
# I'm on a submarine mission for you, baby #
# I feel the way you were goin' #
# Picked you up on my TV screen #
# Feel your undercurrent flowing #
...:::Lord Sadler:::... lordsadler2012@gmail.com
# You've got me pretty deep, baby #
# I can't figure out your watery love #
# I gotta solve your mystery #
# You're sitting it out in heaven above #
# Submission #
# Goin' down, down draggin' me down #
# Submission #
# I can't tell ya what I've found #
# The mystery #
# Under the water #
# ln the sea #
# Submission #
# Goin' down, down draggin' me down #
# Submission #
I wanna drown... # I can't tell ya what I've found #
# ln the water #
# ln the sea #
# A submarine mission for you, baby #
# Feel the way you were goin' #
# Picked you up on my TV screen #
# Feel your undercurrent flowing #
# Submission #
# I'm goin down, down draggin' me down #
# Submission #
# I can't tell ya what I've found #
# Sub - miss - ion #