All language subtitles for Pistol.S01E06.Track.6.Who.Killed.Bambi.1080p.DSNP.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-SMURF_track4_eng

I'm going to blow up the Pistols.

- VIVIENNE: This is about John, isn't it?
- MALCOLM: It's about art.

I have to destroy them.

VIVIENNE: So that out of the chaos

something new
and more powerful may emerge.

MALCOLM: That's always been my philosophy.

VIVIENNE: Actually, it's mine.

You appropriated it.

MALCOLM: Don't be ridiculous.

It's all right. It's a habit of yours.

I'm used to it.

What about Steve?

MALCOLM: He may rise

or he may fall.

Chaos shall decide.

- (GUNSHOT)
- (ROCK MUSIC PLAYING)

NEWS ANCHOR 1: An English rock band,
which has somehow developed

a following by spitting
into the audience,

has come to this country,

saying it is here to rip
some dollars off the angst.

NEWS ANCHOR 2: The Sex Pistols

are Britain's
most successful punk rock group,

and they go out of their way
to shock and outrage people

at Heathrow Airport in London today.

They spat at news photographers
and cursed them.

NEWS ANCHOR 2: Our government refused
to let the four musicians

into our country at first because...

They're all criminals.

You can check their records
if you don't believe me.

NEWS ANCHOR 3: They refused to talk

and went directly
to their connecting plane

to Atlanta where they have
a concert tomorrow night.

(CROWD CLAMORING)

Is this where we're staying?
Ah, the glamour.

NOEL: Okay, okay, okay. Hey! Hey!

You're on my turf now.

What a boring turf it is.

- SID: It's shit.
- Why aren't we downtown?

Atlanta's kind of edgy.

In London, we get stabbed daily.

I think we can handle little old Atlanta.

In America, people have guns.

There have been death threats.

- What's new?
- NOEL: Hey, this is no joke.

From now on, you don't go anywhere
without EK or Allison.

- Why's he got a girl's name?
- (JOHNNY CHUCKLES)

Do you fight like a girl too, Allison?

Maybe you'll get to find out.

ALL: Ooh!

- Well, I hope so.
- Oi, where's Malcolm?

Still in England for all I know.

That would be typical.

SID: Right.

(IN AMERICAN ACCENT)
Where's the drug store, cowboy?

(IN NORMAL VOICE)
I need a fix.

Nope. There's no hard drugs on my tour.

- STEVE: Right.
- Fuck that.

Hey. Warners have put up a $300,000 bond,

which they will lose
if you commit a felony.

(IN AMERICAN ACCENT)
"Lose. No felonies."

My job to not let that happen.

And it's my job to tell you
that I'm Sid Vicious

and I do whatever the fuck I want!

He's right, that is his actual job.

- Okay. So we both just do our jobs.
- Fucking jobs.

Stick with him. Don't let him score.

I'm warning you, mate,
stay out of my face.

What are you looking at?

ALLISON: Oh, well,

I'm looking at you.

- Oh! Here we go! Go on, Siddy!
- Oh, shit.

(BOTH GRUNTING)

STEVE: Go, Sid! Oh! Shit.

- Oh, fucking hell!
- Easy, easy, easy, mate!

ALLISON: How do you think
I fight now, huh?

Don't kill him. Fucking hell,
you're fucking killing him!

Good, good! You fight good!

(BREATHES HEAVILY)

- Are you kidding me?
- (SCOFFS)

Allison.

(SIGHS)

Okay.

- Yay!
- (SCREAMS)

- Never let your guard down.
- STEVE: Shit, fucking--

- Jesus!
- STEVE: Shit.

(COUGHS)

Good. Cheers, man.

You're all right.

Good, this is gonna be great.

Do you mind? Any ketchup?

(STEVE SINGING
"I WASHED MY HANDS IN MUDDY WATER" )

There's a Johnny Rotten inside us all.

And he doesn't need to be saved,
he needs to be crucified!

(CROWD CHEERS)

- MALE VOICE: Hallelujah!
- FEMALE VOICE: Hallelujah!

(SINGING "LIAR")

I need heroin!

Is that so hard
to get through your thick fucking skull?

- Sidney!
- SID: Shut up, John! Please.

Please, Mr. American man.

All right.

Here. Take some of my valium,
it should help.

- No more than two at a time.
- Okay.

Can you open it?

- ("007 (SHANTY TOWN)" PLAYING)
- PAUL: It's not a bad job, is it?

NOEL: Come on, man. Come on.

- It's the Sex Pistols.
- SID: We got fans.

They do like us in America.

You can sit here, lads.

Right then
who's gonna fuck her first?

Make a line.

- One at a time!
- SID: Go on, Jonesy!

- STEVE: One at a time!
- PAUL: Listen.

- Hey... Anyone got any bog roll?
- Oh... fucking hell.

- Oh, shut that door.
- We've run out, immensely.

- Smells like something died up your ass.
- There's no bog roll, though.

- Oh, shit, that's worse!
- All right. Get it away!

(SCREAMING)

(SONG CONTINUES)

(JOHNNY SINGING INDISTINCTLY)

I was going like this, "Come on, buddy."
And he kept going like this.

And I would have been glad
to take him on or his buddy Johnny,

but he-- He came out and hit us
over the head with a bass.

SID: Faggots!

MALE VOICE 1: It was great, that's what,
you know, music's meant to be.

You know, I think that's where rock
is going and where it's gonna stay.

They were great, if I can only make out
the words, they'd be greater.

It was worth all the money we paid
and all the trouble we went through

to get out here.

MALE VOICE 2: Fuck no.
They're garbage, man.

You know, they're garbage.

FEMALE VOICE 1: I like it for me,

but I don't think
I'd recommend it to anybody.

FEMALE VOICE 2: What I thought when I saw
Johnny Rotten's face,

I thought I'd vomit, he's so beautiful.

MALE VOICE 3: It's about time we got
some street fighting men here in America.

It's about time we got someone
to rile the people up.

FEMALE VOICE 3: The Pistols
are just out of sight.

MALE VOICE 4: I think I heard one time

that they urinated
on the audience one time.

Why? I don't know, it just sounds goofy.

- SID: Hi, Nancy. I miss you, baby.
- NANCY: (OVER PHONE) I miss you, too.

- Yeah, they won't give me...
- NANCY: What's going on?

- They won't give me heroin.
- NANCY: You're the star, why...

- You need to find me a connection.
- NANCY: I don't have one.

- Please, a little bit--
- What did we agree, Sidney?

I didn't agree to nothin'!

All right. Fine.

SID: Fuck off, you stupid cunts!

JOHNNY: Personally, I'd like to see
the music press blown up in the morning.

Because they don't actually comment
on me records anymore,

it's more about me clothes, all right?
The color of me foxy hair,

and that's 'cause no one

really understands rock and roll,
all right?

And see, I'm big headed enough
to say I do.

And that's why we're
the most honest band

to have ever existed.

I mean, I-- I don't about those idiots,
but I'm gonna make a lot of money.

FEMALE VOICE: It's a house.

MALE VOICE: Yeah?
I can't see it very well.

MALE VOICE: Sally, I hear something.
Stop. Stop.

- (SCREAMS)
- Oh, shit!

(SCREAMING CONTINUES)

- (SCREAMING CONTINUES)
- (CHAINSAW REVS)

There you go...

Longhorn, gentlemen.

(PLAYING "HOLIDAYS IN THE SUN")

(SINGING)

(BASS QUIETS)

(CROWD CLAMORING)

(SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY)

SID: You weren't giving it much
out there tonight, Jonesy.

- You're fucking joking.
- SID: This is punk!

You gotta give it!

Every single night!
Did you fucking see me up there?

Sorry, I was too busy trying
to play your bass part,

as well as my lead to get the chance
to cut me self with a broken bottle.

- I'll try harder next time.
- Yeah, do. Soft cock.

Out of the fucking toilet, mate,
I'm banging on that door.

Warners' 300 grand is lookin' a bit shaky.

Where'd he get heroin from?

The guy walks around with "Gimme a fix"
carved into his chest!

Some fan probably slipped it to him.

Genius idea puttin' him
in the band for me.

- I'll take care of it.
- Like you took care of Glen?

I don't recall asking
the backing band for comment.

- STEVE: Oh, backing band?
- (PAUL CLICKS TONGUE)

I thought you could do better than that.

Nothing?

You can put that away as well.

I ain't impressed
by your fake fucking stare.

How can two weeks in Texas
feel like two years in hell?

I suppose we're all just havin'
a "Rotten" old time.

Right. I'm not going to San Francisco
on that fucking bus with John!

MALCOLM: (OVER PHONE)
Of course not, my boy.

I can't comprehend how
you can stand him.

You know he goes around
telling journalists

that you and Cookie are no more
than the backing band?

Well, I guessed as much.

MALCOLM: Well, how about the backing band
fly out to San Francisco?

What about John and Sid?

MALCOLM:
Oh, up to them, whatever they want.

SID: That's-- That's the stuff.

(SID SINGING "JESUS LOVES ME")

JOHNNY: Come on, Sid.

(BELL RINGING)

JOHNNY: Hello.

Hello. Hello.

Hello.

(GUITAR PLAYING)

JOHNNY: Hey, it's far too fucking fast!

Malcolm?

Well, all hail, my slinky,
Southern six-shooters!

Nice of you to finally turn up.

Not nice, actually.

Apologies,

my Texan Terribles.

But I have been very busy
attending to some important

Sex Pistol business down in Los Angeles.

Well, oh, fearless fuck up,
I've been attending to some

very important near-death business,

involving thousands
of redneck cowboys baying for my blood.

We were all attending to that, all of us.
Stop saying "me!"

But I cop it the most
because I'm the star.

STEVE: You hear that, Cookie?

Me and you may as well piss off
and finally go have some fun.

Hey, that sounds good.
When are we leaving?

Go. Won't be hard finding
another backing band.

(CHUCKLES)

Backing band. It's only me
and John anyone actually looks at.

STEVE: (CHUCKLES) Thank fucking Christ
they're not listening to you.

SID: Doesn't matter what you sound like,
it's what you look like what counts.

STEVE: Fuck off, you little junkie.

- Who you tellin' to fuck off, mate?
- You.

MALCOLM: Brilliant! (CHUCKLES)

Exactly as I planned.
You were turning into a rock band.

And how can any poor,
disenfranchised kid relate to a rock band?

Inaccessible. Famous.
John was acting like Rod Stewart.

PAUL: To be fair,
he's got the hair for it now.

Fuck off!

I needed to bring you back down
to street-level where you belong.

To throw you into the furnace
and see what remains of you.

You are...

completely insane!

That is why I insisted that we only play
the Southern states.

It is a shame about this place, though.

Why?
This is the first proper venue we've had.

Warner wanted you to play
all the big cities, but I told them,

"They're not a rock band."

Then what the fuck are we?

Well,

you are very soon to be

"Sexy...

Latin Assassins."

- FEMALE VOICE: Don Perignon.
- STEVE: You what?

I've been in LA, gathering funding
for our new movie,

The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle.
I've already recorded a track for it.

And after this,
we're gonna fly down to Rio.

The Great Train Robber, Ronnie Biggs,
is gonna be a guest vocalist

on a Pistols track.

The fuck he is.

Oh God.

It'll be fun! Come on,
that whole outlaw spirit!

And plus, girls don't wear
many clothes down in Rio, aye?

- Sounds good.
- Yeah, I'm game.

You fucking cunt!

Oi. Ah, ah, ah, ah. Hey!

You calm down, Shirley Temple.

Come on, Sidney!

Sid?

Don't go running off with
that miserable ponce!

Come on, let's have some fun, hey?

I fucking hate you
for what you did to Nancy.

Never forget that.

STEVE: Oi, what-- what about sound check?

SID: Oh, just fuck off!

Who wants a drink?

JOHNNY: If he thinks
I'm getting on a plane to Brazil,

- he can think the fuck again.
- (KNOCKING ON DOOR)

JOHNNY: Hang on.

Look, just-- Things have gotten
out of hand, but we're just--

We're just-- We're worn out.
I mean, it was just--

It was three weeks ago in Huddersfield,

you was puttin' your face
in a cream pie

for a bunch of kids.
You were brilliant.

We were brilliant!
I mean, we've got the...

- I'll call you back.
- We've got a number one album

in the UK.

Who would've thought that?

Who would've thought a bunch
of working-class yobs

- would ever fucking pull that off?
- Exactly!

But Malcolm's insane!

It's one thing after another,
and-- and now he wants us to go to Rio?

Yeah, it'll be fun!

Why can't we just have a bit
of fucking fun

every now and then?

Ronnie Biggs bashed a train driver,

a decent working man,

and left him brain damaged for life.

There's nothing fun about it!

Malcolm's gonna make us into fools.

And where's the money?

If Warners are putting up 300 grand
in the vain hope

that one of us won't commit a crime,

we must be worth a lot of money
to someone.

We don't even have bank accounts, Steve!

And Christ only knows
what was in those contracts we signed.

Look at this rancid hotel

Malcolm's put me in while you
and Cookie are in five-star luxury.

There's no rooms left at the Miyako
'cause you and Sid

chose to stay on the bus.

Chose to stay on the bus?

We didn't have a choice.

That's another Malcolm swindle.
Can't you see...

- Oh, right.
- ...he's trying to turn us

- against each other?
- Why would he do that?

Control!

Divide and conquer. The Pistols have
so much more to do, Steve!

But it has to be without Malcolm!

You need to choose.

He goes,

or I go.

I need to think about it.

JOHNNY: Think fast.

If Malcolm's not gone by tomorrow,

tonight will be our last show.

Ever.

(PLAYING "ANARCHY IN THE U.K.")

(SINGING)

(SONG ENDS)

Another tuneless racket.

If you can put up with that,
you can put up with anything.

(AUDIENCE CLAMORING)

(AUDIENCE YELLING)

(AUDIENCE JEERING)

What a lovely fucking group of people.

MALE VOICE: Sing fucking tenderly.

(PLAYING "NO FUN")

You'll get one number and one number only,

because I'm a lazy bastard.

This is "No Fun."

(SINGING)

(CONTINUES SINGING)

- (MUSIC ENDS)
- ("YOU NEED HANDS" PLAYING)

- (SONG STOPS)
- Oh, bollocks. Why should I carry on?

- (SONG CONTINUES)
- (MALCOLM SINGING)

(SONG ENDS)

Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?
Goodnight.

- (MICROPHONE FEEDBACK)
- (AUDIENCE BOOING)

(BLOWS WHISTLE)

I played shit tonight.

Even worse than usual.

But it doesn't matter.

You know why?

STEVE: 'Cause you're high?

No, Steve.

- (STEVE SIGHS)
- Not it.

Think about it.

Was it 'cause the sound guy
turned your amp off?

SID: Did he?

STEVE: Yeah.

Why? (CHUCKLES)

STEVE: Well, 'cause Warners was...

filming the show,

and they didn't want you
mucking it up.

And you didn't...

you know?

You looked amazing.

- Yeah.
- STEVE: And that's what counts.

Yeah. That's what really counts.

- Mate, I was wonderin' if I...
- SID: You didn't guess.

STEVE: What's that?

Why it doesn't matter.

Oh.

Why?

Nancy.

I'm gonna be seein'
Nancy again soon.

Oh, really? Great.

You should get to know her better.

Oh, I really want to, Sid.

I do.

She taught me everything

I know about sex.

She could teach you a few things.

I wouldn't mind.

You know I already fucked her.

She wasn't nothin' special.

What?

Said she's a lucky bird.

You're something special.

Thanks.

I didn't think you liked me.

Most of the time you're just
too stressful to be around.

- Make me nervous.
- (CHUCKLES)

Sorry, Steve. It's my job.

- (CHUCKLES)
- STEVE: I know.

I've gotta hand it to ya,
you know. You got balls.

- SID: Yeah. I have.
- You are, you're...

unique.

Yeah.

I am.

- STEVE: So listen, can I...
- (BLOWS WHISTLE)

- Can I cop...
- (BLOWS WHISTLE)

...some of that dope?

Well, I thought you didn't like heroin?

- STEVE: Well, you like it.
- SID: It's great.

STEVE: And I just thought, you know,
if Sid likes it, then,

I should give it a go.

- SID: Oh, and Steve?
- STEVE: What?

SID: I stole Jolene's spike.

Fucking hate needles.

- I'll snort it.
- It's not as good.

- (SNIFFLES, SIGHS)
- SID: Soft cock.

(PSYCHEDELIC MUSIC PLAYS)

(BLOWS WHISTLE)

We need to talk about Malcolm.

(PHONE RINGING)

JOHNNY: You need to choose.

- It is your band.
- (KNOCK ON DOOR)

JOHNNY: He goes, or I go.

- (MUSIC CONTINUES)
- (PHONE CONTINUES RINGING)

Hello?

STEVE: (OVER PHONE) We're doing it.

At the Miyako in an hour.

JOHNNY: Sid's not here.

STEVE: It's all right, he's with me.

Do you wanna start, Steve?

Well-- Well...

I couldn't have...

What-- what do you wanna say, Steve?

I know...

I know that...

PAUL: Steve, just...

STEVE: Malcolm...

It's all right. It's all right.
I understand, my boy.

It's okay.

- I'm glad there's no hard feelings.
- MALCOLM: No, not at all.

Steve told me about your concerns
and I completely understand.

I think you've made the right decision.

Leaving

would be the best thing
for all of us.

Leaving?

Who's leaving?

You are.

You gave Steve an ultimatum
and he wisely chose

to keep the present
management structure in place.

Oh, Steve.

MALCOLM: The Sex Pistols will continue

without you.

You fucking coward.

My deepest sympathies.

Come on, Sidney.

I’m staying.

What?

You don't like Nancy.

- Steve kidnapped her.
- Only cause Malcolm told him to.

So why are you staying with Malcolm?

He's gonna put us all in a movie.

And I'm gonna be the lead singer.

I'm the star now, John,

just like Nancy says.

You disgusting man.

Please.

You know, you really
have turned into Rod Stewart.

Why don't you go downtown
and find some cocaine or something?

(MUSIC CONTINUES)

(RETCHES)

(ELEVATOR DINGS)

JOHNNY: Look at you.

Couldn't even make it
back to London without OD’ing.

You don’t tell me what to do, Johnny.

No.

Only one person does that,
doesn't she? You pussy-whipped fool.

You're just jealous.

Jealous because no one can write
even one thing they love about you.

Goodbye, Sidney.

(SINGING "BRASS IN POCKET")

(CONTINUES SINGING)

MALE VOICE: Okay, guys. Rolling.
Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle take three.

Mark it.

And action.

Find yourself a lawyer

who has no interest in music.

He's your main asset in developing
the highest price

for a band that can't play.

Now begins the test to--

Now begins the task of--

Now begins the-- Interesting
the record companies.

JULIEN: Cut.

Malcolm.

Could you try looking
at Helen occasionally?

Don't be silly,
I won't be able to read my lines.

JULIEN: Couldn't you learn your lines?

I mean, that just seems a bit ordinary.

Well, sometimes ordinary can be
a means to get

to a larger creative statement.

Julien, just direct.
Leave the creativity to me.

- (KNOCK ON DOOR)
- Give us a sec.

- MALE VOICE: We need you on set.
- Give us a sec.

SID: "Jay ne, ne, rah, fuckin’ rah!"
What's with all this froggy shit?

The finale of the film is set in Paris
and um,

well, for financing reasons,

it has to be a French song.

Another Malcolm swindle.

No, no, no, no.
You can sing it in English.

It means no regrets.

Well, maybe I've had
a few fuckin' regrets,

like thinkin' that John was my mate
or that Malcolm was an actual manager.

JF, do you have any songs with regrets?

JOHN: Uh... Erm...

Yes, what about "Commeb d'Habitude"
by Claude Francois and Jacques Revaux?

- More frogs’ legs.
- JOHN: No, no, no, no. In English

it is "Regrets I've had a few,
but then again too few to mention."

That's not bad.

JOHN: Frank Sinatra
had a big hit with this one.

SID: Grandpa Sinatra, thank you.

- "My Way."
- SID: Fuck me.

"My Way", it's a classic.

- Sid, that's a good song for you.
- It's old.

Yeah, but if you make it your own,

people will remember you forever.

How do I make it me own?

The way that you sing it,
and the backing,

we'll put that Pistols wall of sound
behind you.

It’s still not really me.

Well, what is you, Sid?

What he said.

When?

That night you scored smack off me.

- (BLOWS WHISTLE)
- (SNIFFS)

STEVE: You are...

SID: Unique. You said I was unique.

Now, how do I make
this fucking song unique?

Change the lyrics.

- What?
- STEVE: Like Rotten used to

when we did covers.

(SINGING "NO FUN")

What do I change them to?

I don't know,
words ain't really my department.

Nancy,

she can help me.
She's a genius.

Thank you, Mr. Froggy.

- Nancy!
- (DOOR SLAMS)

(NANCY RECITING "MY WAY")

(CHUCKLES)

Nancy said I should laugh there,
like, I could go... (LAUGHS MOCKINGLY)

- This is what a real manager looks like.
- Quiet, Sid.

(CONTINUES RECITING)

(SINGING "MY WAY")

- That's for you, Nancy, yeah.
- You fucking nailed it, baby.

NANCY: Sid?

Sidney?

Wake up, Sid.

Nancy, I'm gonna get my methadone.

And I'll bring you back something.

You're so fucking pathetic, Sidney!
Do I have to do everything myself?

Sorry about last night.

I'll do it soon. I promise.

NANCY: (CRIES)
That's what you always say.

Don't be angry.

Number one...

beautiful.

Number two...

sexy.

Number three...

beautiful figure.

- What are you doing?
- (CRIES)

You got blood everywhere.

Number four,

great sense of humor.

Number five...

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

God...
Makes extremely interesting conversation.

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

Six,

witty.

(CRIES)

Seven,

has the most beautiful eyes.

(SOBS)

Eight,

has fab taste. Come on.

Come on, Nancy. Come on.

(SOMBER MUSIC PLAYING)

NEWS ANCHOR: Sid Vicious
looked very subdued

when the police led him away to jail.

The spike-haired 21-year-old
London punk rock star

said nothing as he was taken out
of the 17th Precinct New York

after being arrested
for the fatal stabbing

of his girlfriend Nancy Laura Spungen.

He was just as subdued this afternoon
when he was arraigned

in the criminal court for her murder
and held on $50,000 bail.

Don’t worry,

I'll hire a lawyer,
get Sid out on bail

and we'll continue the Pistols as planned.

And it gives me a very good idea
for a shirt.

Oi, London.
Get ready to meet The Pretenders.

I’m gonna puke.

You okay?

Yeah, yeah. Just give me a minute.

See you on stage.

- Not if I see you first.
- (CHUCKLES)

(EXHALES)

Come on. Come on, come on, come on.

Sorry to hear about Sid.

What? He's out on bail, isn't he?

Oh...

He OD'd.

Sid's dead.

I'm sorry.

(SNIFFLES)

(CROWD CHEERS)

MALCOLM: Fucking Sid.

Now what are we gonna do
with these shirts?

STEVE: Shirts?

MALCOLM: "She's dead,
I'm alive, I'm yours."

They're useless now that he's dead.

Unless we change it.

"We're dead," and then just
cross out

"I'm alive"

and change "I'm yours" to...
(CHUCKLES)

"Up... yours."

And then we got "We're dead
up yours."

That'll have the moralists screaming.

(CHUCKLES)

(MALCOLM CHUCKLES)

You fucker.

These weren’t cheap, you know.

John was right, wasn't he?

Wasn't he? It's one great big swindle.

Don't complain.

You're a far greater thief than I am,
my little Artful Dodger.

You...

should've protected us.

Protected you?

Protected you?
No, I had to come up with all the ideas,

I had to take all of the risks.
I had to deal with the fucking suits.

I had to hide my light under a bushel,
and while you got famous, I got hated.

Now who was protecting me?

That fucking film

makes us look like fools.

You are fools.

We're family.

Do you really think that anyone
would give a shit about Steve Jones,

about Paul Cook, John Lydon,
or Sid fucking Vicious

if it wasn't for me? No.

I made you matter.

We were supposed to matter to you.

I was supposed to matter to you.

I'm only 30 years old.

I'm not your father, Steve.

VIVIENNE: It's not personal, pet.

He's like you.

He's just a lost little boy.

Malcolm thinks he needs to burn down
the forest to find his way home.

So, he's burning you.

Isn't that right, Malc?

What would you know?
You're just the woman who does the sewing.

(TENSE MUSIC PLAYING)

(CLAMORING)

STEVE: I hate needles, Sid.
I'll just snort it.

SID: It's not as good, soft cock.

("MY WAY" PLAYING)

(SINGING)

You're next, Jonesy.

- (GUNSHOT)
- (RECORD SCRATCH)

JOHNNY: Look at you.

Things didn’t work out
exactly as planned, did they?

(SCOFFS)

You were right.

Should never have chosen Malcolm over you.
It was all my fault.

All right?

Now you got what you came here for,
so now you can fuck off.

You shouldn’t have chosen
Malcolm over me.

But that's not why I came.

You gonna go the way Sid went?

Sid was...

quite special,

but the drugs turned him
into a third-rate B-movie.

Carry On Up The Sex Pistols,
To A Place of Dark and Violent Hilarity.

Even without Malcolm,
the band never would've survived.

You knew Sid weren't ready
to be a Sex Pistol,

but I needed my mate.

And it killed him.

I feel very guilty about that.

And guilt weighs heavy
on good Catholic boys like me.

Sid was gonna go the way he did
whether he was a Sex Pistol or not.

It's not your fault.

It ain't always about you, mate.

Fuck off.

STEVE: Johnny.

(CHUCKLES) Johnny fucking Rotten.

Goodbye, Steve.

We did some things.

You and me.

They'll remember us.

Yeah.

We'll always have Huddersfield.

Merry Christmas, kiddies.

HOST: Sex Pistols is the name of the game,
they’ve put on this party for you today.

And it's all free.

- (ALL CHEERING)
- (PLAYING "NO FEELINGS")

(JOHNNY SINGING)

Hello, sir, what's your name?

- Allen.
- Merry Christmas, Allen.

I'm Sid fucking Vicious,
and I'll show these Northern cunts

what they're dealing with.

Sid, these are the children
of working-class heroes,

and we are here to bring cheer
to their otherwise dismal Christmas.

No potty mouth.

Okay, but only because it's Christmas.

(SONG CONTINUES)

(SONG FADES)

QUEEN ELIZABETH: It remains for me
to thank you all for your kind support

during this Jubilee year.

On Christmas eve,
I lit one small candle at Sandringham

and a golden thread of these flames

spread throughout Great Britain
and the Commonwealth.

Let us all strive to spread

our Christian spirit of generosity
throughout the coming year.

God bless you all
and a very happy Christmas.

("JESUS LOVES ME" PLAYING)

(SONG ENDS)