All language subtitles for The Filth And The Fury - A Sex Pistols Film

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 any jobs.
You couldn't get job.

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 councilor

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
they just 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,

little 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,

"It'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 Irish 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,

"I 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...

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.

They just thought we were

like 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 pub just 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... it just 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, 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, "I 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?

Who wants a bunk-up?

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,

like 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 "I 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 I... #

# 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 I... #

# 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.

# Is 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.

It just 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 of jump 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...

lather 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,"
Islington.

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?

"Infamous language"?
You're joking.

I speak nothing but the fucking
English language.

And if that's "Infamous,"
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.

Most journalists 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,

like 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, "It'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,
"I'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,

"I 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!
- It just 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,

like 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.

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,

"It'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...
laugh 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.

"I 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 first joined,

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 over celebrated,

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 guy just 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 #

# In 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 #

# In England's dreaming #

# No future #

# No future #

# No future for you #

# No future #

# No future #

# No future for me #

Chop off his head, man.

# No future #

# 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... #

# 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,

lucky 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 of fucking shit.

Got a lot of wax
in my ears today.

So we were left doing nothing.
I was just sitting there,

with... like, 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.

"It'll rip your balls off."

I read the first Sex Pistols
review,

which was shit, and I said,
"I 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 a junkie.

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 of funny, 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 remember just 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,
"I 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

of firemen 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 Investors' 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.
It just 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.

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...

it just got really depressing,
really quick.

But the point is, Sid's my mate,

and I don't want him
to be a junkie.

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 a jumper 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 a joke.
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 #

# In 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 #

# In 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 #

# No fun #

I don't wanna be a junkie
for the rest of my life.

I don't wanna be a junkie 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
"I'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 it just 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 Island.

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.

They just 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 #

# In 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 #

# 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 #

# In the sea #

# Submission #

# Goin' down, down
draggin' me down #

# Submission #

I wanna drown...
# I can't tell ya what I've found #

# In the water #

# In 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 #

# Sub - miss - ion #

# Sub - miss - ion #