All language subtitles for Pistol.S01E04.Track.4.Pretty.Vaaaycunt.1080p.DSNP.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-SMURF_track4_eng

TONY WILSON: One of the most reviewed
and most reviled rock phenomena

of recent weeks,
we've got a few votes. Sex Pistols!

You can hear them warming up
in the background even now.

- (INSTRUMENTS PLAYING LOUDLY)
- Take it away.

(JOHNNY SHOUTING)

One, two, three, four!

Francie, are you watching?

FRANCIE: (OVER PHONE)
Oh, Lord, yes. I am watching.

"Anarchy in the UK" is a call
to arms for all the kids

who feel that rock and roll
has been taken away from them.

JEANIE: "Meet Malcolm McLaren.
He runs a shop called Sex.

"He manages a group
called the Sex Pistols.

"His rockabilly leathers deconstructed
by the effete white scarf

"that shrouds his whey face."

What’s a "whey face"?

I don't know. There's a picture.

That face must be whey.

Fundamentally,
rock is a young-people music.

"McLaren declares himself
the commissar of the youth revolution."

The bus. Come on.
I want to get to the back.

- We have created a brand-new...
- ..."Generation gap, says McLaren.

- "Sixteen-year-olds are telling..."
- ...Eighteen-year-olds

- that they're too old.
- Move along, fetus.

Look at this clown.

GIRL: Silly clowns.

- All kids are anarchists.
- Ow!

Malcolm!

Until they get dragged into the system.

All the other bands that have risen out
of the wake of the Pistols are great.

It's like having an army behind you.

We are to the Bay City Rollers
what The Stones were to the Beatles.

See? That was cool, wasn't it?

(BOYS LAUGH)

It says here they’re going
to do a tour up North.

- Are they coming to Huddersfield?
- It doesn't say.

- What are youse slags wearin'?
- Show us your tits.

Show us your ass!

Get, you know... get lost!

- (BOY LAUGHS)
- (TIRES SCREECH)

- That wasn't very punk.
- Okay, I'm just getting used to it.

(GUNSHOT)

(GUITAR STRUMS OUT OF TUNE)

What you think?

That has got "hit"
written all over it.

Cheers.

Or when you get
your new recording contract,

I definitely suggest this
as your first single.

Thank you, Dave.

Next time I need advice
from a stoned-out hippie,

I'll know precisely where to turn.

In the meantime, please stick
to your assigned role

as a third-rate sound engineer.

He's just jealous 'cause I wrote the tune
and most of the lyrics.

Oh, apart from that rewrite you did
in the second verse

- which, admittedly, is an improvement.
- The only thing that makes it

not an Abba song
is that I sing "pretty vay-cunt,

whereas you wanted, "pretty vacant."

Dave's right. When we present
to potential record companies...

Shut up, Glen.

Ugh. Are we fighting again?

"Pretty Vacant"
does not represent us as a band.

Oh, no, not like "Anarchy."

"I am an anarchist. I am an antichrist."

Do you know what a hard time
my mum gets at work over those lyrics?

STEVE: Because "anarchist"
and "antichrist" don't rhyme?

I'm the one who people notice,
and I'm the one who bears

the consequences, so pardon me, Glen,

if I don't give a fuck
what your mum thinks.

Hi, now, lads.

Here you go.

- Thanks.
- What is this?

MALCOLM: That is a call to arms.

That is a stream of unpunctuated hot air
from a broken hair dryer.

Oh, please. Don't allow me to interrupt
your very important potato prints.

Not important enough for you
to mention in your interview.

Ah!

Bruised ego, is it?

VIVIENNE: I like the anarchy bit.

What about the Bay City Roller bit?

VIVIENNE: The bit about the shop
and the band sharing a name.

Well, it's just always good to throw
some facts in with the bullshit.

I'm changing the name of the shop.

(SCOFFS) We can't change the name
of the band now. I mean, that...

The shop is not there to service the band.

The shop is not there
to reinforce your brand.

Well, what is it there for then?

To expose hypocrisy
and provoke revolution.

What, with sticky back plastic
and squeezy bottles?

(GRUNTS)

Do you know the difference
between you and me, Malcolm?

How do I differ from thee?
Let me count the ways.

Your idea of ambition is
to be the new George Epstein.

Brian Epstein. It's Brian.

My idea of ambition is to be
the new Boudica.

I want to ride a chariot
down Oxford Street

and burn this city to the ground.

So, what does Boudica want
to call her new boutique then?

VIVIENNE: Seditionaries.

(GUITAR STRUMMING)

CHRISSIE: There you go.

STEVE: You’re a fuckin’ great guitarist,
you know that?

No. You're just really shit.

You mouthy yank.

Play with me.

You might learn something.

STEVE: We do make great music together.

CHRISSIE: You talking about
the lying down kind,

or the sitting up kind?

Both.

Well, actually,
there’s more than two

‘cause you can do the lyin’ down music

standin’ up, and sitting down.

And you can do the sittin’ down music,
standin’ up, and lyin’ down.

It's confusing speaking
in metaphors all the time, isn’t it?

Ugh. It's a right nause.

What is a metaphor?

- It's a thing that’s like a thing.
- Right.

Those Northern towns are gonna hate you.

(STEVE SCOFFS)

STEVE: I might not make it back alive.

CHRISSIE: Might not.

STEVE: We’d better make music
one last time

before I leave.

See, now that

is a metaphor.

- PAUL: Fucking hell!
- STEVE: Come on, Cookie, push!

PAUL: I am pushing, you cunt.

- GLEN: Are you doing anything?
- Yeah! I fucking all the way down.

(GRUNTING, SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY)

- Get in!
- PAUL: Get up!

Wait! I’m up front.
I’m the navigator. What you doing?

- I’m up front. I’m the star.
- GLEN: No you're not.

Yeah! Hey!

JOHNNY: (SINGING)

(CROWD JEERING)

- (INDISTINCT SHOUTING)
- (WOMAN SCREAMING)

There’s gonna be a riot! Come on!

Oh, look, the Northern oafs
are snogging.

I didn't know Barnsley was this fruity.

To be honest with you, son,
it’s like this most Saturday nights.

- (INDISTINCT SHOUTING)
- But it’s Wednesday!

The ceiling.

VIVIENNE: We're going for
a bombed-out look.

Yeah. Just smash some holes into it.

It’s full of asbestos.
If you unsettle it, it’ll kill ya.

I can’t ask my lads to touch it.

Okay. Thank you very much
for coming. Out.

Victory.

VIVIENNE: You fool.

I'm starving. It's obscene.

Well, I’ve only been provided
with the money

for petrol and accommodation.

JOHNNY: We can’t work if we’re starving!

- Yeah, fill her up, will you?
- MAN: Yeah.

JOHNNY: (SINGING)

- PAUL: Yay! Yay! Yay!
- GLEN: All right, man!

No, no, no, you’re the star.
You stay in the front.

Yeah, go on.

Nice one, Jonesy.

JEANIE: We are here.

They...

are here.

What are we gonna do?

GLEN: Fuck off!

(ALL JEERING)

- Fuck off back to London!
- Take your fucking... and fuck off.

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)

Hey, cunt!

(SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY)

Where do you think you're going?

Hello. Good afternoon.
Good afternoon. Welcome to the Grand.

I’m Bernadette,
you must be the Sex Pistols?

Right. You’ll be in the Ballroom.
If you could just follow me, gentlemen.

Our resident DJ...

Our resident DJ kicks off the proceedings
at 7:00pm sharp.

There’s a buffet, you can help yourselves.

STEVE: Fuck.

Then it’s you from 8:00 till 9:00.

STEVE: Watch the upholstery, John.

- PAUL: I don't even know what that is.
- STEVE: Fucking...

Through this way.
And can I just say, the North Yorkshire

Hairdressers’ Association
are beside themselves with excitement?

STEVE: Look at that. Fucking hell,
could you just stop pushing me

through the fucking wall?
Jesus, John, get through the fucking...

GLEN: Fucking hell.

STEVE: Holy shit.

We open to the general at 6:30 for 7:00.
All yours till then.

I haven’t heard you,
but I’ve read a lot about you.

So, good luck.

(WHISTLES)

I think it's time for a drink.

("BOOGIE NIGHTS" PLAYING)

STEVE: I like that.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

What’s Malcolm playing at...

sending us on this tour
of England’s biggest twat-holes?

Isn’t exactly our target audience, is it?

- We’re on.
- What?

- Yeah.
- All right.

Look at the legs on that one.

- Yeah, I've seen 'em. In the middle.
- GLEN: Yeah, I know.

FEMALE VOICE: Disgusting.

Hello, Whitby, or Shitby,
or wherever we are.

Do you want to hear something real?

(PLAYING "PROBLEMS")

BERNADETTE: Could you turn it down
a bit please? The sound.

- Turn it down!
- STEVE: What?

The sound. We’ve got Bingo
on in the Lesser Ballroom.

- They can’t hear the numbers.
- Bingo?

BERNADETTE: Bingo! Yeah! Next door.

Oi, it’s Bernadette!

- (ALL CHUCKLE)
- STEVE: It's Bingo.

Turn it up!

STEVE: This one goes out to Bingo
and her boyfriend.

(PLAYING "SUBURBAN KID")

- (WAVES CRASHING)
- Oi, oi.

What’s that noise?

The sea.

That’s the sea.

GLEN: Get out?
You never once got taken to the seaside?

STEVE: My childhood wasn’t quite the lap
of luxury yours was, Glen.

Even us impoverished Irish immigrants
had the occasional seaside holiday.

Poor underprivileged Jonesy.

Fuck off.

GLEN: I didn’t mean anything.

You're always going on

like I’m some kind of rich kid,
but I grew up the same as you.

Oh, right.

That’s why you went
to that posh school, is it?

I went to grammar school
because I passed the entrance exam.

Fair enough.

I was too thick for all that.

Do you know why I play bass?

Loneliness.

All them grammar school kids
thought I was scum.

And all you lot thought I was
a stuck-up posh boy. So...

I learnt music.

But I didn’t start a band.

You did.

And...

it’s the best thing
that’s ever happened to me.

You’re not thick, Steve.

Yeah, Rotten’s got all that.

But you’re the one
who actually gets things done.

Well, for my money,

you’re smarter than all of us.

- Come here you!
- GLEN: Oi, oi, oi! Stop it!

No. Oh, fuck! Oi!

Help me.
Please be nice, I'm gonna be sick.

Help me!

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)

They’re perfect tonight!

They’re playing like a band.

(SINGING FADES)

I can’t bear it any longer, Francie.

I’m a prisoner in my own home.

It's time for youth revolution.

(HEAVY METAL MUSIC PLAYING)

STEVE: Get in!

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)

Welcome to mission control.

Wow.

It’s a dump!

Oh, hello. I’m Steve.

I know. I know who you all are,
and can I just say

that I think what you’re doing
is so important.

You could say that,
but would it be true?

Oh. Look, don’t mind John,
he’s a right nause.

Do mind Steve,
he’s a sexual maniac.

Yeah, I am.
Sorry, there’s nuffin' I can do about it.

MALCOLM: Sophie’s my aide-de-camp.

Aide-de-what?

I think he means assistant.

Ooh. Grammar school’s finally payin’ off.

Sophie shall be giving you
your weekly wages.

- Oh! How much do we get?
- Twenty-five pounds.

What?

I used to get more as an apprentice.

It’s just until we start selling records.

Speaking of which,

your freshly negotiated EMI contract.

PAUL: Give us a look.

How much is it for?

Forty thousand pounds.

- Forty... Oh, fuck!
- Oh, my. Fuck.

Wait, hang on, hang on.
Then why only 25 quid a week?

- Well, the 40
- K is to pay
for the recording of your new album.

JOHNNY: Come on!

Oi! This is a complex legal document.

You get 25 percent
and we pay your expenses?

It's all very standard stuff.

Look, it's all right. Malcolm knows
if he stitches us up,

I’ll break his fuckin’ legs.
Don’t you, Malcolm?

Too right, my boy. Right, who's first?

Oi! Wait. Wait. Wait.

Can we see the actual check?

MALCOLM: The actual check.

Made out to Glitterbest.

What's Glitterbest, Malcolm?

Sophie, will you explain it to him?

SOPHIE: Um...

Malcolm tells me Glitterbest
is a limited liability company.

The money still belongs to you,
Glitterbest merely handles it.

You seem like a very sensible girl,
Sophie.

If there’s anything wrong with this,
it’s your fault

because you’re the only one
what's read it.

- Oi! That is... John. You...
- PAUL: Too right.

You can all hire lawyers
if you really want to,

but frankly, they are a bunch
of corrupt bastards

who are not worth their pay.
Isn’t that right, Sophie?

- Well, I can’t say that that's...
- Of course, you can’t, and neither can I!

What I’d much rather you do
is go on Thames Television

live tomorrow evening to discuss
the phenomenon

that you’re about to become!

Thames Television? Which show?

- Grundy.
- Grundy. My mum loves him.

- Jeez, you don't have...
- Sign the contract then go tell the world.

GLEN: You're not joking?

SYLVIA: We’ve told everyone.

Your aunt Julia almost had a conniption.

Everyone watches it, don’t they?
It’s really quite exciting.

I always knew you’d be famous.
You get it from me. Charisma.

Why are you on?

Because... right...

You haven’t done anything wrong,
have you? Are you on as well, Steve?

- Yeah. We’re all going to be on, Mrs. C.
- Hmm!

You should’ve asked me on.
Is your Mum excited, Steve?

Yeah. Bound to be.

- We’re on because...
- You haven't told her, have you?

Mum. We’ve got a recording contract!

- Oh, lovely.
- That's a big deal.

Go and tell her, Steve.
She’s your mum.

MARY: On telly.

That's exciting!

We got a contract, Mrs. Jones.
It's a lot of money.

MARY: Oh, Steve.

Yeah. We're actually on tonight.
On the Today show.

That’ll be a laugh.

Well, it’ll make a change
from keeping it to ourselves...

watching him cock up live on TV.
(CHUCKLES)

Well, now, the whole world

will get to see
what your poor mum’s had to put up with

all these years,

you lazy little sod...

Huh? Honestly...

what did we do
to deserve you?

- PAUL: Don't miss it.
- Yeah.

Ta-da.

Sexy young assassins,
your carriage awaits you. Come on.

Here we go....

Steve!

Steve!

Are you all right, my boy?

- STEVE: Never better.
- MALCOLM: Come on.

JOHNNY: Oh, no, no, no. No.
Oh, I don't care.

PAUL: We're so sexy!

Yeah!

JULIA: I was told the band
was a four piece.

- We're not a band, we are a movement.
- Oh shi...

Now, if he talks to you about violence,
remember, you have to destroy

in order to create.

If he asks you about filth,
just turn it back on him

and talk about the filthy conditions
that the poor are in, or something.

Turn it back on him every time.
This is going to be very confrontational.

- Right, right.
- Do shut up, Malcolm.

- Are you all right?
- What?

It’ll be a piece of piss.

- Good. Cause I am fuckin’ damn pissed.
- JULIA: Right, if you could just

- go through in an orderly fashion.
- Good.

- You know, there really are a lot of you.
- Yeah, there's a lot of you.

Do we get a fee for this at all?

No. Not a fee as such,
but you’re welcome to go back

- and finish the crisps.
- Oh.

(STEVE SHOUTING)

If you'd just come through calmly,
on to the stage, please.

Behave yourselves.

Thank you.

I think you'll find that I'm the cute one.

Rotten will need some space.

Where you hiding?

Please do not touch anything,
and make your way to this chair.

- JOHNNY: You are marvelous.
- JULIA: We are live in three minutes.

Sit down!

You've got the whole... fucking hell,
it's ready.

Do not touch the cue cards.
Are you going on too?

Me? No, no. I’m the éminence grise.

- Oh, of course, you are.
- Interview's late.

- Just what are you doing for a job?
- Here he is, look.

- Hello.
- Better late than never, hey?

("THAMES TELEVISION" THEME PLAYING)

- They are punk rockers.
- (CHUCKLES) Oi! Oi!

The new craze, they tell me. Their heroes?

Not the nice, clean Rolling Stones.

You see, they are as drunk as I am.

- They are clean by comparison.
- Hey-ya, he said they're drunk.

...and I am surrounded now
by all of them...

STEVE: In action!

GRUNDY: Yet I've never seen
the Sex Pistols in action.

("ANARCHY" PLAYING THROUGH TV)

- (YAWNS)
- We were there. Why are we watching this?

They're good, they are.

People are gonna be disappointed
we aren't Queen.

- Who are they?
- Ballet dancing like Mr. Mercury.

STEVE: Is that what I was wearing?

Oh, look, beauty and the beast.

- MALE VOICE: NVP we going live
- (BURPS)

in five, four...

I am told that that group
have received 40,000 pounds

- from a record company...
- Did he just say 40,000?

It's a load of old bollocks.
It's hype. Yeah? Not real money.

Well, tell me more about that.

STEVE: Oh, yeah.
We fuckin’ spent it, ain’t we?

What did he say? What did Steven just say?

Did he just swear?

- He is joking though, isn’t he?
- I think that fella’s drunk.

Are you serious
or are you just making me...

- You're just trying to make me laugh?
- Yeah, it’s all gone.

- GRUNDY: Really?
- Yeah.

- No, but I mean about what you're doing.
- Oh, yeah.

- You're... You are serious?
- Yeah.

Beethoven, Mozart,
Bach and Brahms have all died... Really?

Yes. Well, they're all heroes of ours,
ain't they?

What... What... What did you say, sir?

- Oh, yes. They're wonderful people.
- Are they?

- Oh, yes. They really turn us on.
- But they’re dead.

GRUNDY: Well, supposing they turn
other people on.

That's just their tough shit.

It's what?

Nothing. A rude word. Next question.

No, no, what was the rude word?

What the fuck did he ask him
that for?

Shit.

GRUNDY: Was it really?
Good heavens, you've...

There you are. I told you, didn't I?
Here we go.

He’s just more or less asked him
to swear live on air.

Are you worried,
or are you just enjoying yourself?

- Enjoying myself.
- Are you?

- Yeah.
- That's what I thought you were doing.

- You know, I always wanted to meet you.
- GRUNDY: Did you really?

- Yeah.
- We'll meet afterwards, shall we?

You dirty sod.

- That told him.
- STEVE: Dirty old man!

Well, keep going, Steve,
keep going. Go on.

We've another five seconds,
say something.

- STEVE: Dirty... You dirty bastard.
- GRUNDY: Go on, again.

You dirty fucker.

You dirty, dirty, dirty fucker!

- GRUNDY: What a clever boy.
- STEVE: What a fucking rotter.

GRUNDY: Well, 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 won't be seeing you again.

From me, though, good night.

("THAMES TELEVISION" THEME PLAYING)

What a disgusting sleaze.

Shit! I hope my mum
wasn’t watching.

- Please hold. Please hold.
- Thames Television. Please hold.

Great. That!
That is the complaint line!

Well, just... just get
into the green room.

JOHNNY: I knew he'd be bad,
but I didn't think he'd be that bad.

- Fucking hate posh cunts.
- STEVE: Ah, tell me about it.

PAUL: Are you telling me?

What have you done?

- What you told us to do.
- I did not tell you

to end your entire career,
to destroy everything

that we have worked for
by appearing in front

of the British public
on tea-time television

as a bunch of sweary toddlers.

Malcolm.

Always the revolutionary
until the barricades go up

and then he runs home to Grandma.

Look, the bloke just wound us up
and we were just giving it...

No one has said the word "fuck"
on British TV ever before in history.

Brendan Behan.

What?

It’s a matter of great pride
to the Irish community in Britain

that the first person to use the F word
on British TV was, in fact,

the poet Brendan Behan.

He said ‘fuck’ to Malcolm Muggeridge.

Ten times. So, this is just a storm
in a china tea cup

on the table of doilies
of your cowardice.

- Who told you to laugh?
- FEMALE VOICE: Don't say that!

No, no. it's just, doilies are funny.

So funny. (CHUCKLES)

Whoops!

Our work here is done. Let's go back to
the old hideout.

- Get pissed!
- Destroy!

("PABLO PICASSO" PLAYING)

- (SONG ENDS)
- It's in the bin!

I brought you the papers.

- Cheers!
- Who’s she?

- Uh, she's...
- I’m his music teacher.

Yeah. Yeah, yeah. That’s right.

CHRISSIE: You might want
to read those headlines.

Wait... You can't...

“The Foul Mouthed Yobs.”

"Were the Pistols Loaded?"
“The Filth and The Fury.”

- Filth and The Fury is good.
- (BANGING ON DOOR)

MALE VOICE 1:
News of the World. Johnny.

- Chloe says you are a foul-mouthed...
- Fucking hell!

Come on, open up, boys!

Jesus. Fuck.
How the fuck did they get up there?

Sid! Sid! What are you doin’?

Answering the door...

- Is it an orgy, boys?
- Come on, you Sex Pistols.

SID: Let’s give ‘em an eyeful of this!

JOHNNY: Get your hand off that knob!

- This is Punk!
- JOHNNY: Shh!

We do what we want, when we want.
And we ain’t scared to show the world!

You think I want the world
seein’ me like this?

My dear mother might think
I was stupid enough

to exchange bodily fluids
with these harridans.

Piss off!

I wouldn’t exchange bodily fluids
with you

if you were the last body in London.

- SID: Open sesame!
- Sid! I’ll tell mum that you led me

into this depravity,

and she will ban you
from our house forever!

No more cups of tea.
No more iced biscuits,

no more motherly sympathy,

just cold, hard banishment!

I do love your mum.

And she loves you.

Let’s keep it that way.

MALE VOICE 2:
Come on, boys. Let's see ya!

MALE VOICE 3: Come on, lads!
Give us an eyeful!

Thank God.

And now, music news.
A huge uproar has broken out

after members of the punk rock group
the Sex Pistols repeatedly swore live

on teatime television.

A spokesperson
for ITV condemned the group...

Oi! There's bloody cuntin' Rotten!
Come here, you fuck!

I'll fucking kick your head in!

MALE VOICE 1: My mum
was watching that, you cunt!

- Get in!
- Lock the door! Lock the door! Go!

Drive!

(MEN SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY)

I mean, this, I like.
'Cause this is something different,

you know?
This is what it should be about.

Look at you,
you think you're all that, don't ya?

- All what, exactly?
- Poncy cunt.

Oh, here we go.
Ding, ding! Next question, please.

(GLASS SHATTERS)

- (GRUNTS)
- (WOMAN SCREAMS)

PAUL: Punch him!

MALE VOICE: Get Johnny out!

Get him out!

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)

They should’ve kept an eye on you.
You’re the face.

You’re what makes the band the band.

It’s not your fault everyone wants
to talk to you.

They got to appreciate that...

take care of you.

You’re my only real mate, Sid.

You’ll need another, for later.

I’ll be dead by the time I’m 21.

Don’t say stupid clichés like that.

No, I mean it.

Do you want a cup of tea?

Yeah. Thanks.

I'll make it.

("X OFFENDER" PLAYING)

No pet, we did not spray paint "scum"
and "filth" on the outside of our shop.

Why would we do that?

Yes, I suppose it is the kind

of thing we would do,
but in this instance... No. Mal.

(PHONE RINGING)

What? It's your call. Mal.

Yeah.

MALE VOICE: (OVER PHONE) Yes, I'm sorry...
Your contract has been terminated.

Yeah, I... I let......
Well, couldn’t we j...

We couldn’t...

Yes, though, I see...

I see. What?

- The shop is being...
- Actually, never mind what.

- EMI have just dropped us.
- And the shop is b... Oh.

Are they asking for their money back?

No, no, no. The advance is non-returnable.

So, this is interesting.

- (GLASS SHATTERS)
- Mum! Mum!

- Stay down! Stay down!
- BEN: Mum! Mum!

What's happening?

MALE VOICE: Watch your mouths now,
you filthy scum!

Fucking fascist arrogant cunts!

What’s happening?

Fascist bastard just threw

- a bloody brick through our window...
- Not the window.

I can see what happened
to the bloody window, you fool.

What have you done?

What have you done to our lives?

Are you all right? Are you all right?

Look. It's gone. Are you all right?

- Let me see your hands.
- I'm okay, mum. I'm okay.

Oh. I know what I’ve done.

I’ve made us matter.

Right. Thanks to my strategy,
we are now poised to change the world.

Your strategy?
You were shitting your pants.

You have been banned

from playing right across the country,
which is wonderful.

Wonderful? How?

Society fears you. You...

matter.

And to add to the glory of the day,
EMI have dropped you.

- What?
- Shit!

- MALCOLM: Which means...
- We’re fucked.

It means we are available.

We are available, and we are infamous,

and we are an instantly
recognizable brand,

which is why Jamie is here.

Jamie is an anarchist, a Druid
and a genius, in that order.

He is also now our new head
of marketing.

Working under him will be Julien...

Uh, actually, I’m an independent.

- And Helen...
- I’m independent, too.

MALCOLM: We’re a team.

And to build our worldwide brand,

we must sharpen and focus
our image.

Imagine we’re in a movie

by Jean-Luc Godard.

Imagine I punch you in the face.

You would play the...

tortured street poet.

And you would play the rough

yet sensitive criminal.

You would be the street-smart,
loyal friend.

- Naturally.
- And you...

you would be...

The really boring mummy’s boy

with bad hair, bad jeans,
and a very annoying whiny little voice.

You fucking cunt.

No wonder everyone in this band
fucking hates you.

Sorry.

Not much sleep.

It’s all right.

That’s anarchy.

STEVE: He speaks.

Only occasionally,
but with great perspicacity.

We need to create a visual style...

that supports the fundamental anarchy

that lives both within
and without the band.

- You see, perspicacious.
- Incomprehensible.

Jamie’s also on with Sophie.

- Thanks, Malcolm.
- Well, it’s a matter of fact.

Prick.

What I mean is, that we... we are all
one great big...

unhappy family...

And families yell,

and they scream,
and they fight, but none of that matters

as long as we stick together.

("MILK AND HONEY" PLAYING)

Where is it? It's supposed to be there.

- JEANIE: Is... That's him!
- Stay calm.

Follow him!

Excuse me. All right, guys.

(SONG CONTINUES)

(GIRLS CHATTING)

(SONG FADES)

I need to see Malcolm.

He’s not here, pet.

- Fuck it!
- Come on, then.

JOHNNY: Find out.

JORDAN: Yes?

- (DOOR CLOSES)
- JEANIE: Um..

We...

We...

We want to change our lives.

Yes. Completely.

Put this on.

Oh, God. (CHUCKLES NERVOUSLY)

I couldn’t wear that.
Never.

Let me tell you about this.

For hundreds of years,
women had to wear stuff like this

under their dresses.

They literally lived in bondage.

Why are you asking us
to wear it now, then?

My project is to summon this darkness
out of its own shadows...

and into the light of reason.

Is that a song?

It’s a creed.

All these means
of oppression were hidden away

behind bustles and crinolines.

And it was no different
when our mothers were young.

The Playtex girdle was just
another corset destroying your insides.

Wait. A... Are you saying
you wear this on the outside?

Of course. I don’t make underwear.

What do you take me for?
Marks and Spencer?

I am not St Michael, darling.

It’s too sexy. It’s way too sexy.

It was designed to be sexy,

to offer women’s bodies up

to the gaze of men.

But you wear it on the outside,

and what happens?

You get a lot of funny looks.

But no wolf whistles.

Turn the male gaze back on itself.

It’s the opposite of sexy.

It exposes the mystery, the mechanics.

Do you follow me?

Wait. Are you... Are you saying
we could wear this stuff?

We can’t afford it.

I’m dressing you.

The gig is my show.

And you’re going to be on the catwalk.

STEVE: Are you ready?

(PLAYING "EMI")

We're your biggest fans. We love you!

(CROWD CHEERING)

JOHNNY: Sidney, Sidney. Honestly.

Good evening, London!

We are the Sex Pistols,
and we are coming to shoot you down dead!

- STEVE: He's got the dough. He's got...
- Steve, I want a quick word.

- STEVE: Where?
- MALCOLM: Gather the others.

In private, man. John. John,
I just want a quick word.

- (WHISTLES)
- Steve!

STEVE: What’s up?

I just wanted to give you
one last little kiss for the evening.

A&M would like to offer you a contract.

How much?

A hundred and twenty-five
thousand pounds.

You f... (CHUCKLES)

- Are you kidding me?
- Have a good evening, boys.

And I sup... I suppose the check
will be non-returnable.

Well, you know,
so if we get dropped again,

it’ll just disappear under
the Glitterbest umbrella?

Well, I mean, I haven’t read
the fine print yet,

but if you’re concerned,
may I suggest that you don’t get dropped?

Well. Easy enough, innit, I guess?

JOHNNY: Sidney!

Steve!

All right. Back in a sec.

Come. Sit, join me.

Glen has a point.

- Right.
- All right. If... If this doesn’t work...

We’re running out of labels to sign with.

And?

John has musical differences with Glen.
And Vivienne has stylistic differences

with Glen.
And then now, you think that he's...

And I think he's... Look, he’s a nause,
but he’s all right.

He doesn’t fit the brand.

And...

John won’t work with him anymore.

He said that?

You should consider edging Glen out.

- I should consider?
- MALCOLM: It’s your band.

- Yeah but, I mean...
- Oh, come on, my boy.

You have to do
what is right for the band.

Make me proud.

- (LAUGHTER)
- (INDISTINCT CHATTER)

- You okay?
- Yeah.

What you having?

Uh...

I'll just... I'll be there in a sec.

(GIRLS SQUEAL)

- Oi! Hello, Huddersfields.
- Hi.

I thought I recognized ya.

- From the crowd!
- Heard you both screamin'.

- From the front stage.
- Yeah, we were! Yeah, yeah.

Hey, be honest. What did you think?

- Well, it was amazing.
- Do you think?

- Yeah.
- Best thing ever!

Where are you going?

Well, we met some people
and they said we could sleep

on their floor.

- Oh, their floor?
- Mm-hmm.

I can do better than that.

Look, if... Oi, oi!

Look, you’re both welcome.
There's plenty of room.

I... I... I mean, I don't know. Like...

- Well, I wouldn’t mind.
- Yeah.

- All right then.
- All right, then.

So what was your favorite tune?

JEANIE: My favorite one
is "Pretty Vacant."

Hey, it's not far from...

- JORDAN: We’ll take this. Step in, ladies.
- I... I... Jordan!

- We were just about to...
- I’m taking care of them.

That's all right. I'm taking care of them.

Oh, crossed wires.
You’re talking about the girls.

I’m talking about the clothes.

Step in, girls.

- Sorry.
- 430 Kingsbury, please. Night, Steve.

(GRUNTS)

Shit.

GLEN: Coming through, coming through.
Make some room.

Oh, look out.

- HELEN: Oh, is that for me? Is that...
- Here we are. Hey, that's for you.

FEMALE VOICE: Oh! Oh! Oh, oh!

(ALL SHOUTING)

GLEN: What’s your hurry? Aye?

- Have you got a minute?
- Yeah.

Is this about the money Malcolm gets
when we sign?

'Cause I think we should be talking
about this to the others, too.

Ain't about the money.

It's about...

personnel.

- You are fucking joking.
- The thing is...

- You are fucking joking.
- Look. I was t... I was talking to John,

- and we were trying to...
- No. You weren’t talking to John.

You were talking to Malcolm...

And you weren’t talking to him.
He was talking to you.

Oh, come on. You know, this is mental.

- You know you need me.
- It’s my band.

Mine.

And what I’m trying to say to you...

is you’re sacked.

Right.

(STEVE CLEARS THROAT)

Whenever Malcolm feels

- like shafting ya...
- (SCOFFS)

...you just bend over, don't you?

Malcolm's good little boy.

You fucking...

(BREATHES HEAVILY) Oh...

- You’d love that. Huh?
- Fuck it.

You’d love to be able to say
that we had a big manly fight.

Yeah?

So that you wouldn’t have
to tell anyone that you bent over.

Boys, boys, boys.

We’re just going up the Roxy.

Let's go.

Steve, you coming?

Why not, Steve?

Yeah, Steve, why not?

STEVE: Fuck.

JORDAN: You look fabulous, ladies.

But I'm afraid we’re going
to need those pieces back.

FRANCINE: Vivienne said?

Vivienne said you could exhibit them.
She didn’t say you could own them.

I bet the lads in the band keep theirs.

They do. But I imagine Malcolm
deducts the costs from their earnings.

He does mine.

A thank-you present. From Vivienne.

For doing the clothes justice
on the night.

I’m sure you’ll be splashed
all over the New Musical Express.

- These are train tickets. To Huddersfield.
- JORDAN: With compliments.

FRANCINE: We’ve run away from home.

Well, now you can run back
and tell everyone what you’ve seen.

But... No, we’re staying.

You’ve got nothing, you know nothing,
and if you stay here,

you’ll become nothing.

You think we’re just stupid little girls,
but we’re punks.

You’re just old.

Old?

- Well...
- We’re the new generation gap.

Good for you.

And how long before
you’re the old, new generation gap?

What’ll you have then
but a très boring story

about how you were once
the brightest young things at some gig

no one even remembers?

Go home.
Learn things.

Get clever.

Make your own destiny.

We’ll be back.

Yeah.

You can count on it.

STEVE: Always gotta be fucking bothered
about fucking Glen! Fuck.

(KNOCKS ON DOOR)

I just saw Glen at the Roxy.

(SCOFFS) Oh.

We had musical differences.

He snores in the van.

He’s the best musician
and songwriter in your band.

Dresses like Paul McCartney.
Always washing his feet...

His feet?

He doesn’t fit the image.

What’s Malcolm got over you, Steve?

Why can’t you ever stand up to him?

'Cause he...

'Cause...

'Cause he stood up for me...

In court.

He said I meant something to him.

He gave me a chance.

I mean, you of all people, you can...
you can understand that,

can’t you?

It's... I mean, it’s just like
you with your music, you...

You just need someone...

to... give you a chance.

And they will.

I mean,
they will, sooner than you think.

Here he is, the man of the hour!
This calls for celebration, Chrissie.

We have a replacement.

Our man, Jonesy, is about to give
a very unique individual

the chance of a lifetime.

The chance of a...

Who is the replacement?

Wait...

Are you going to ask me?

No. No. It’s all sorted.

Hello, Chrissie. Guess what?

I’m a Sex Pistol.

- (GUNSHOT)
- ("EVER FALLEN IN LOVE" PLAYING)

(SONG ENDS)