Original subtitles

Germany got to die, so that we can live.

Chaos was ruling the cities.

The biggest riots in the history of Post-War-Germany.

In a society which supplies food for everybody,

everybody exclusively competes for attention.

Everybody who fights inside his own caste,

feeds the system and loses.

The proceeding automation has produced wealth and free time.

But what to do with all that free time?

Scumbags behind the screens, advise and entertain.

Scumbags in front of the screens.

Destroy everything.

Create nothing.

Anti-establishment.

You lucky Bastard, who is on the street!

Where were you guys when the streets were burning?

Sometimes a single day, unhinges your world,

rips off your cloth

and in the blink of an eye

penetrates your pathetic, nude, defenseless corpus.

This story tells of such a day.

It was the hottest summer in years.

And without a doubt the hottest day this summer.

If you already work up a sweat in the morning,

anything, really anything is possible.

Love and Hate, Antipathy and Enthusiasm.

The only question is, who brings the wood for the fire.

That dude right here is Karl.

Calls himself Charly Brown.

Right, he is bald just like Charly.

And Brown fits too, perfectly. Brown like shit.

Charly was an archetypal loser.

Misfortune stuck on his boondockers,

even though he just comes back from the concert of his lifetime.

500 litres of beer were sufficient motivation

for innumberable neo-Fascists to gather on a meadow parking side.

Nazis quite simply belong, to the present german reality.

They are nothing more but, the echo of a prevailling mood,

the unfiltered truth and a demascation

revealing what it really looks like, below the pleasant surface.

Nazi bitches, cunts, scumbags and all that douche bags.

Keep it that way, it's true, crazy, all of them.

Idiot, wants to be a german, calls himself Charly Brown.

But that's just typical, for neo-Fascists

english flag, english shoes, english music

but still performing "The proud German".

Hello, it's me Tommy once member of Kanalterror,

meanwhile, since 20 years a member of Molotow Soda.

Right, and there we go already, Mike Spike-Froidl is my name

better known as Don Chaos after I crossed Spain on a horse,

dressed in an knights-armor,

I really deserve that name.

So, I am Archy, as well called Mc Motherfucker.

My personal era of punk dates back to 1977.

We started being Punks in the early eighties. Rocking around.

You can attribute me to the first generation of punk.

I've been to the "Chaostage", in the early eighties.

It was some kind of bizarre, back and forth between.

Punks and cops.

But it was unlike the nineties, when cops arrested you

due to restraining orders.

They worked more like that Romans from "The Adventures of Asterix".

Scurrying arround the pedeastrian area.

Knocking with bats on their shields like crazy, trying to get us away.

There was no organization, at all, we just met

and that scared people already.

Me, I am Karl Nagel, back then Punk and I've been to tons of "Chaostage"

and I am also referred to as Master of Chaos.

I assume that any rights concerning this film, could be appealed by me.

I think my parents had a premonition of what was coming.

Nothing else attracted me anymore.

Punk Music was the first thing that caused an explosion in me.

Punk was simply it, aggressive, everything concentrated.

Ultra aggressive, yes.

Like, my mood at that time.

Horror, I' ve seen, it.

All that violence, the blood, the rush, the murder, I all experienced it.

The Clash, X-Ray Spex,…

It just moved me. After a long time I felt something, hearing music.

Before that, music just bored me.

Didi wanted to become a Rocker, but probably that was to lame for him.

As a Punk he could distinguish himself more.

Didi was my best friend as long as I can remember,

and besides me, I believe, he was the first Punk I've ever seen.

He was not one of those losers who were

flushed in the gutter by that crazy, consuming society

who were simply to weak to fight.

We were outsiders, fully aware of it, self-chosen.

Hey!

What?

That's simply not done.

You are right. That's simply not done. At least not everyday.

If everybody would be doing this.

Then nobody would have to pay, as long as nobody gets caught.

That's against the law!

No, in this case it's not.

I'm engaged by the mall to make test thieveries.

What can be stolen unseen, how much… Does anybody notice anything at all.

If you told on me now, in fact a lot of people would lose their jobs.

The till girl, perhaps even you.

That's all bull-crap, you can not possibly believe that yourself.

As long as you believe me, I'm fine.

- This young man… - Was sooner at the cash desk, and I got it exactly.

That's the limit!

Nope, that's Punk. You will never understand.

If he never had found Dinas damn diary. She was his real love

and not a friend of solitude.

Not afraid of STDs, you know what I'm talkin' about.

Definitely that was too much for Didi. Her diary was written like "The Adventures of Helen Duval",

in the best case a bad amateur porn.

Dear Diary, I could not have imagined

that to split up with Didi was the best decision of my life.

I should have told him about Spider, but then he would have gone mad again.

And that two hot guys, from bavaria

at my interrail trip, he would need a bypass if he knew.

No wonder. Always drunk, that guy.

I love Striptease.

Then I got to know Agnieszka, at first I thougt I would not be able to do that, but it got easy.

Everything is discreet, clean, the money comes on the hand and who cares about some old scumbags watching.

Well, Didi lost control, simply got nuts, fucking shit.

Hey dude check that out, John Wayne had a Winchester too, even you could strike somebody with that rifle.

- Are you nuts? A Winchester? AK-47 and the job is done. - That does not make you Che Guevara.

Just go to work, again.

As I told you, there are days you just know something is going down.

If I knew what was going to happen to me. Well, what ever!

At this time I was usually by myself and my ranging anger was barely controllable.

It only lacked somebody to pull the trigger in my head.

I hate the soft, weak, pathetic beings our funloving society created.

Simply against it? There had to be more, an utopia, a goal, something to aim for.

Sometimes, destiny answers quite quickly.

Oh Shit. The fucking Pigs!

A little peace, a little freedom… (German chanson)

Routine control, registration and driver s license please.

Damn.

Hey there little piggy, don't you remember me?

No? The better I know you, fucking communist.

Hey Jan, who do you think did we just catch? One of the communists, that threw the rocks.

He took part at the burglary last week.

Come on dude.

Just throw the stuff, over the fence.

Here is nobody, at all.

Lets bring it on.

Keep silent, alright.

Otherwise, it means good by daylight.

Are cops that stupid?

Sure, otherwise they would not be cops, right.

Well, then.

Alright, let's look about.

Hey Mitch, let's take that car and piss off, after…

I'm going to get you.

There must be a misunderstanding, that was not me…

What? You call me asshole?

What the heck? Your second exterior mirror is missing.

Well sucker, seems like you won't get out of this quickly.

I told you we will meet again, didn't expect it to be so soon but quite a nice coincidence.

Well, magnificent.

So get out of the car. Get out.

Spread your legs.

Horst, dear god, not again.

What are you doing?

He will know what it's good for.

- That is dangerous, stop it dude. - I'been there pal, believe me, he damaged our car, understand?

- Oh, lordy. - A man sees red or what? - I've been there, he destroyed our cars. Take care of him.

What are you doing? You seriously injure this young man.

That's just wrong.

We caught a dangerous criminal. Get back to your car lady, get back to your car.

Take your hands off me!

- Since when is the police authorized to hurt… - It might seem wrong but believe me

he is dangerous, a threat to all of us.

Get in the car, or I have to press charges on you.

- Like in the books. - Rudi Dutschke, here, is under arrest, let's see what the computer tells us about him.

Duck down.

Well then, my friend, we talk on, at the police post.

Oh Lord…

Fasten your seat belt, please.

What goes around, comes around.

And that Mitch received help from that Granny, dude that's nothing but emberassing.

Well.

I hope it's enough, and everybody will be saturated.

- Once again the potatoes are oversalt again. - You don't have to eat them. - It's anyway too much to eat.

You always have to complain.

If potatoes are too salty…

- Guy we are having dinner. - You see, your son likes it. - He does not have to pay for it.

- That's the truth. - Give it a rest. Instead of controlling the family, you should control the main station.

Where all the damn Punks use to hang out.

You're ought to mark your words especially at lunch.

Even that guys wouldn't eat your potatoes.

They subsist of garbage and then they try to get the money people worked for just like that.

My ass. Some of your pals have a rap sheet a mile long. your potatoes.

Well then, you'd rather like it if I was begging at "Marktplatz" with that filthy morons?

We should send them all to some kind of labour camp.

Right, that kind of thinking brought Germany far ahead before.

- I have to work for my money, too. - And I don't?

- You are as well nothing but a stupid… - You are not supposed to talk that way, to your older brother.

I'm just honest.

The whole country goes down the drain and we are sitting here and twiddle our thumbs.

Instead of somebody putting things right.

To put things right, you and your Nazi friends?

We ain't Nazis, we are young germany with national confidence.

Whatever.

It's good to be proud of your country and you can not blame our youth for what happened ages ago.

60 years. And everybody has to deal with it.

By the way, I'm going to meet my "comrades" this evening.

We discuss that later.

- Got to go to work. - Thanks for lunch mom.

- Take something on the way. - Got to go.

Have fun catching flies.

If you come from a good family, you don't have the chance to turn out well.

You lack the ability to drown the whole country in chaos.

But with a big amount of shit in your pants, you have the necessary agression

and the will, to put yourself through, to pay it back to all that bastards, only for one time.

So to say I took a big crap right on their faces afterwards.

My name is Willi, Willi Wucher. Punk since the big bang.

With a band called "Pöbel und Gesocks" and since we exist, we are Punk.

Nothing against Campino, Willi Wucher, Rolf Zacher… but "I was the first Punk". What does that even mean?

On TV we had Disco'77, host Ilja Richter, we had that sensational Clip of the Sex Pistols on his show. Legendary.

It all started with the Sex Pistols, and me who wanted to marry Johnny Rotten.

The first records of the Pistols, the Ramones and so on were so to say like a Tornado.

Which so to say blew my Led Zeppelin, Uriah Heat records far away.

It was a revolution in music, in context and in fashion.

Punk, at least its influence on me, somehow guides me until today.

I am convinced Punk helped me to find my own way of living.

It is in me. My blood is Punk and I will stick by it.

Yeah, I am Dirk, singer of the legendery Punk-Band Slime.

I know, that today a whole culture screams "Pöbel und Gesocks".

I was down with any shit, and I still am crazy and unreasonable I imagine weird things.

Hey, dear team dear audience, I am Babette, that is Nancy.

New years eve '79 we had our first concert, in a run down house, without drums, just guitar and bass.

I was standing on a table, no mic just shouting and spitting in the crowd, lots of fun.

And I sing for "The Vageenas".

It's Mirko aka Mikro, part of "Abstürzende Brieftauben". We had a guitar and the faith in Punk.

We said fuck it, we do things our way.

Fuck the cops, fuck the state, fuck our parents. Something else had to fill the gap.

Boredom is the hell Punk comes from.

We were from a crappy small city, really crappy and instead of doing nothing we made

Punk music.

You have to go to the cities, specially as a growing youth-movement.

First of all to show we are there.

To get out of the complete negation, to do productive things.

We loved to travel, to loot and all that, our favorite cities were

Hamburg and Hanover.

We were on war with society.

The reaction of the average german sounts like: Send them to concentration camp,

and for the police our appearance was reason enough to take us into custody.

We got kicked out of pubs because people didn't want us there.

Today it's the same, they look at you, notice you are not grey and arrest you.

Even in our old age they always check us twice. In Berlin nobody cares, there they are happy as long as no riots break out.

We were standing on a bridge above a police car with open windows. I threw a light pen in their car.

And it exploded inside the car.

The cops closed the door and drove away.

That's it. Quite a nice experience.

What nobody does, does not take place. If you have a crazy idea you have to go for it.

I personal like it if the idea is bananas.

I might be even willing to pay for it. Like a store, one time revoltution please, one time chaostage.

Warrented please, I paid five bucks. Doesn't work this way.

Punks only want to know somebody who does not drink but drives them to their concerts.

I was facing the storm all by myself. Kralle, Nudel and Spider somehow were nothing but a freakshow.

But that dudes stoped at nothing. They at least backed out of society, did not belong to the sick rest of it.

Never, the system would catch them, that is not a life.

Proud, insufficient word to describe them, they simply were something superior. They were Punks.

Hey Didi, old douche, today plays Toxoplasma dude, time to loose off.

What do you mean by that? Me driving and you guys tripping balls?

- Didi Toxoplasma! - I don't give a fuck, Kralle. I'm not in the mood.

Didi Toxoplasma, dude.

Go fuck yourself, dude.

Didi, loser, let's get it on, Toxoplasma dude.

What's wrong with you?

Fuck it. I stay here and that's that.

You can all just lick my balls, I stay at home.

Well then, take the god damn car. But if you chuck up on my seats again you will lick it off. Got it?

Got it too, Nudel?

I won't throw up, hombre.

What are you doing with all that gravel anyway?

- I construct a fish tank. - A fish tank?

Yeah, right. He wants to stay here fine, the rest, "get in the car".

- What is wrong with Didi? - Weirdo, always depressed. - It's Toxoplasma dude.

- Got totally nuts, since Dina left him. - Why don't you say anything? He's your best friend, isn't he? Always shared anything, right? - Screw you.

Screw you pervert. Stupid turd.

You like that, do you? Me strippin' off my clothes and you are safe inside your car.

Do you believe I am some kind of freak on the run or what?

Sorry, but the fact that you watched me pee, at least reveals an affection.

- Ain't that Didis car? -Yes. - I know him, cute little Punk, right?

But this evening he's not here, isn't he? -Fuck it. Fuck it?

Fuck it? Ain't he your buddy? Somehow I can understand him.

- Ah, only one thing helps there. - What might that be? Something special.

Now, I have to take a piss.

I adore the kids, the sweat, the smell of beer, at the concerts.

Dude, that was hilarious, Spider sits in Didis car and that chick pisses on the front window.

Sometimes it was not quite clear if people were dancing or rumbling if somebody was knocked out or

passed out.

Wild concert, anyway.

And no matter where you went, it were always the same people there.

I still go to concerts. But honestly I do not give a fuck about Punk anymore.

Punk is for young people.

I am old so it's nothing for me any longer. People with crinkles should not go to that kind of concert.

But what am I supposed to listen to? Heavy Metall sucks, Jazz is boring, seriously… What?

I listen to the old bands, but that is oldies shit as well.

Good evening, Ben Becker is my name, almost 43 years old, actor, artist, bagman in matters of art.

Back then, there was Indie, there was Punk, all too lame so I went Hardcore.

What is that? A Punk-party?

Punk defines itself, by people laying in their own puke.

Because that is what people can see puplicly and it's good that Punks save their secrets.

Yes, it is good that way. That People cannot look behind the scenes.

If Punk means going somewhere noisy where people throw up it would be quite boring.

Every generation has a right to go wild. But if I can not relate to that anymore with 36 years, that's ok.

There is no reason to become a Punk. You simply are.

The word "Punker" does not exist, its invented by the yellow press, it does not even have a meaning.

Punk is dirt and scum. There is no "punker."

There are Punks and there is Punk.

On the one hand it is an art form, on the other hand there are roughnecks and riff-raff.

Fuck the cops, I'll rip their heads off.

I put everything to question, fought against unconditional indoctrination by the media.

In general I struggel, against all that manipulation by the state and commercials, I've grown critical.

Critical in an aggressive way.

My name is Wolfgang Wendland, singer of the band "Kassierer".

Hey suckers! I am Tobias Scheiße front-man of the legendary band "Hammerhead".

Now I am independent, gentleman and entrepeneur.

The whole world swore on us, but we didn't give a shit.

People insult me cause I look like shit or because I am not like people want me to be.

It was different back then. People actually were shocked just to see us.

Leather jacket, coloured hair, that sufficed.

I did not want a granny to say, hey nice red hair young gent, I aimed to shock society.

It was not my intention to show some grandma my beautiful "marlboro red hair".

Turn around! Show your hairdo, red hair if red was not trendy anymore I cared.

Because the Death Kennedys were coming I coloured my hair, with car paint.

I might have looked ridiculous, well I like it.

I never cared about my appearance, Punk was inside of me.

I wore feathers like some chief of a tribe and we bought water guns,

filled the guns with beer and a fountain for Punks was born.

I am Wally lead singer of "Toxoplasma".

I've been to Toxoplasma once, everybody was there, except Mitch…

Rio Reiser that old hippie, was right alone. They pound your ass and I was alone.

And they locked me away.

Whereas the others got drunk at the "Toxoplasma" concert, defeat and disposal

punched me in the face.

But I shall have my revenge.

Even Didi, Mr I'm down for any shit, lost every ambition.

Hey Mitch, next time I'm in. But Dina is on her way and we meet up with Kralle and all that bla bla.

What do you even want to get?

You lost you mind dude! What are you up to with that thing?

You never know, do you?

Didi, we have to do something.

I was prepared for the worst case.

Right here, there obviously were the wrong people in charge.

Got to pee.

Simply, had to do it.

Are you out of your mind to come here? I told you I'd let you know what's up.

Is it here?

- Do you have the money on you? - Every cent.

Show me.

- There still was something good to all that. - There you go.

While chief Nazi Eddi was fighting some punching ball, I got the chance to steal his money.

Well, actually he was broke.

Hey, what are you doing, are you stupid, dude?

And I met Anita, there was something about here…

She definitely was way to good for that old Nazi.

You can go home now. Your file says you are fine. The car is fine too.

- Anything is fine? - Listen. I know what happened is unfair.

Sometimes the old cops just lose control. He beat you up, hm?

- What will be your reaction? - You could press charges.

It won't be easy to fight an officer but I would advise you to stand up for yourself.

Maybe people would hear about it and that could prevent future damage.

I'm leaving now.

My name is Severin Roth, if you need help, appeal to me.

Shall I give you my direct dial? Imagine, the police will not listen to you.

I'm leaving now.

Sure.

Think about it.

At the same time, Severin's little sister thought about something completely different.

Fuck, got to get out of here.

- Do you want a sip? Helps to swallow. - There is nothing to swallow.

After all, Eddi has to perform the chief again.

Everytime the same shit.

Everybody here is a slave to him. He keeps them all together. - Magnificent guy.

He has connections to really honorable people.

Sure, I still remember Eddi, bad guy, deserves to be locked away, seriously.

He was the guy who said "I want to be nothing but a simple SA-Man."

That concert in the woods… unbelieveable.

He met Ian Stuart. No one of all that jerks here could claim that.

They all just babble, damn state, national unity…

and then they got to work again. In a mall, on a construction field, so the wogs got it better.

Ain't you a nurse yourself? - Listen, slut. I've got two kids which need to be fed.

- What am I supposed to do? - Turn Germany into Boozeland like big Eddi here.

It's just off the waggon. I mean somewhere one's money got to come from.

Anyway, he does not go to some butcher-shop or bakery. I think he really is doing serious stuff,

they cause real terror.

You knew what was going to happen, didn't you?

And you sit here, pissing in your pants, apart from that you perform the tough skinhead and in here

you are nothing but a picture of misery.

Our agreement is fixed, is that clear now?

- Porky, I don't know, that really is something. - Shut it, you little jerk.

- I mean fuck, can't you just send her? - Eddi…

Fuck me, Porky.

Would you like to eat your own feces? Yeah?

Yes. That turns you on, hm? Damn, that really turns him on.

He looked like some crazy construction worker, shaved head, like some pervert who is into sick sex.

Didi's aquaria finally took form, why does life sometimes fuck you up so hard?

Didi, we wanted to build bombs, hit the cops up, we never needed each other as much as now.

Who dies early, does not have to live anymore.

Basically I never quite understood how the hell a Punk could turn depressive.

That just does not fit at all.

You don't want me to trip balls behind the wheel, do you?

- Germany will die… - I'm still trashed of yesterday.

Would you guys give me a ride?

- Get him. - Punch him. - Fucking Nazi.

- Douchebag. Take his jacket. - Little jerk.

Now, we give you a hippie make-over!

What do we have here?

Does not fit.

It never rains, but it pours. Bitch!

- Bye, dickhead. - Damn Nazi. Oh, he's crying, poor fellow.

Kralle beat that Nazi up for good, dude. Didi not want to be in his place.

You probably could have scratched that Nazi from the ground after all that.

I don't quite remember. There was an affray in Hamburg, Rockers, Teddys and that kind…

We got beat up by anybody. If we went to a pub or anywhere else.

If you met Rockers… uh, just bought some cigarettes, violence was massive.

You simply had to go through all that and it even helped us to be a stronger union.

When the whole Punk-thing evolved we had trouble with Hooligans, and anybody else available.

We were not only confronted with police and the ordinary babbitt, no. There were

Teddys, the Billies, the Hooligans, all that people met on the weekends.

There was a battle. A battle for the rulership of "Herrmannplatz" usual Punk territory. Punks versus Popper.

But no Poppers showed up, but therefore police did.

The first event, where Hooligans and Punks united to fight the police. Heroic battle.

So, we've been to "Chaostage" 81 and 82, Duisburg mainstation, always on the run from the cops.

Running, that's all I remember, endless runs, clangor of windows, one of my pals got arrested 15 minutes after he arrived.

Running that's all I remember, endless runs, clangor of windows, one of my pals got arrested 15 minutes after he arrived.

The police arrived by foot, by car, by bike, any way imaginable. They chased us, what a rush.

I lost my conciousness in the morning laying on the ground of some store…

It's nothing but hilarious when they all lay around unable to do anything.

Down ala at the nose, just straight.

As a person with leader skills, I'm accordingly enabled to use a shaver.

What a jackass. What a turd.

Therefore, in my position as most succesful politician of Post-War-Germany.

I give you guys a good dressing down.

We just arrived, ready to loot and then police came checking us out and wanted to arrest us.

We were arrested over and over again. Every weekend they took pictures…

We had that ridiculous strategy to go back further and further, hoping jails will be full soon and it indeed worked.

The imagination of a whole city burning, everybody running around totally out of their minds,

that is exactly what people dream of when they are in their early twenties.

An awesome battle, a real slaughter, an heroic act.

One night before, a whole district of the city was conquered by Punks.

At least RTL said that. And they should know, er was it SAT.1? I don't remember.

Maybe we also beat policemen, don't remember.

It was great. They brought us to that police post. I showed them 500 Marks and told them.

I said I would pay the tickets home for all of us and they said ok go we trust you. We trust you!

We went and bought booze first. The police, trusted us…

Many had the idea to take revenge in Clubs. Police was everywhere. Some looted a supermarket. We went there too, late.

We threw rocks until almost everybody had wounds.

Blue lamp here blue lamp there, the police was all over the place.

That is why I love "Chaostage", it is like playing on an organ made of storm and thunder.

And then, funny things happen.

Needless to say, police acted extremely violent.

Mitch got beaten up by the cops in town and later on at the police post they really let him have it.

He was bizarre in every way, fantasies of annihilation and all that.

Yes right, "Zimmermannsberg".

What do you mean? You have no cars? The animal is here dead on the street.

Ok, I will wait.

Hits and punches always create a situation which might backfire.

Stop it, dude. There wasn't any damage. Nobody got hurt.

No damage? You've seen the guy. Horst he is about the same age as your son.

- My son? My son is a cop. - Sure, imagine your son gets hurt for his point of view.

My heart beats to the limit, I stare in the eye of my enemies and I see they are victims of

the same lies, everything screams for affront, destroy…

You are a cute young guy. Why don't you just focus on surviving?

Because I can't see our job like that. That has nothing to do with me being a freshmen but.

I don't violate a guy in case he might have done something. Just in case…

I knew he is guilty.

Praise in your common fear, panic to some deaf god, in whose hand it is to put out the fire.

You talk too much, boy.

If that means being a cop, I am not sure I want to be one.

A cop. I tell you something about cops.

We are fighting, on the front line, monthy by month, day by day.

And no politician, no lawyer, gives a shit about us.

And if we order a bullet proof vest, it arrives half a year later.

An it is either damaged or to small.

I work since 20 years

my marriage is ruined, and I always run short on money.

There is no part of my body without scars.

You want to see?

Around the main station, Turks and Albanians.

Here, grazing shot.

Now, I show you something, beautiful,

Hooligans, that is our truth, our reality.

So, please stop telling me how to do my job.

Nobody forced you to become a cop, right.

Can you just drop it and start to research the accident?

Whatever.

Colors do not exist, all is white, all turns black

I am naked, come her and gaze at my scars.

- There is nothing, - Seems like it.

So, let's move, it's half an hour till lunch time.

Fuck.

Come on, boy, get up, we got to move.

I am going to get you!

Classic western situation, the hero appears to be finished.

Close before it comes to an end, the bad guy dies from his wounds.

I could have shot that guy, but I wanted to leave him

slowly dying in the mud. Like he deserved it.

Mitch lives until today.

Mitch was a sucker.

Really a sucker. Playing the hero, shooting a cop.

He just went over the edge, it had nothing to do with a cool fake, or anything.

Just the same moron he used to be 20 years ago.

Stucks to you like, a done deal.

I think one lives and dies as a Punk.

So, pain forced him into the bathtub, his pancreas cracked and then he drowned.

If you always push it to far, that's where it ends.

One of the things that impressed me concerning Punk.

Eddi, Eddi, these Punks beat me up.

- What? - No?

So what was going on?

They spit me in the face.

Now, shut the fuck up.

Charly Brown, fucking nobody. How many times more will you let them kick your pathetic ass?

Look at you, like god damn hippie, barefoot and all that…

I will help you out. At least that Punks deserve some punches, anyway.

They gained power that misfits.

They need to be beat up so badly.

- Right. - Yeah.

So, that at least one of them, finally does not stand up anymore.

Otherwise, we could have gotten you new boots…

They probably hang around that "Penny Markt", that's where they are always at.

- Indeed. - Let's go.

- What? - Always the same shit.

I won't come along. What is that supposed to mean?

- Are you nuts? - You are nuts, I am simply bored by all that crap.

- I already know what is about to happen. - Stupid gal, look at the poor fellow.

Never heard anything of national solidarity?

Do you let them all down, just like this?

Right, Eddi, national solidarity.

Companionship and national loyalty.

Just like you being loyal to your wife, when I suck your cock?

Shut it, slut.

Before, I lose control.

- And stop telling lies. - Right, except it ain't no lies, Eddi.

But you are right and like always in charge. Anyway, I'm outta here.

Whatever, bitch. But don't come crawling back tomorrow.

I won't forget that fast.

It is like a mass suicide attempt. Everybody goes to Hanover, knowing they will get their ass kicked.

The major concern was, how many times will I get arrested.

Sex and the "Chaostage" form a union, people drive to Hannover for a fuck.

It's not just about fighting the police, that is more like gimmick,

Truthfully it is like, hey you come from the countryside,

I come from the solitude.

In most cases one is a bumb, the last jerk, most likely you never had a girl friend and not even friends.

Because one is alone, alone in the smallest village on earth.

So, one goes to Hanover, where everybody is horny and wants to fuck.

It is a meaningless boozing party for Punks.

Back then, the city of Hanover created a Punk database.

Because that way they had better control of what was going on.

It was like some kind of club, a file making it way easier to arrest us.

On the one hand we were tired of being hated, on the other hand it was

kind of funny to go to Hanover and simply sign the own file.

Since the police already abused its power so much, what else could we have done?

Power, force has puch it all, without the power and anger you can trash any idea.

An atomic bomb fires as follows, several highly concentrated objects need to have a minimum distance to each other,

The exact moment these objects falls under that distance the critical mass is created, the bomb explodes.

And that exactly happened at the "Chaostage", no violence, no looting, had to be planned,

So, so, I'm receiving a call.

What's going on? Albanians?

"Chaostage" gigantic, megalomania.

In for a penny, in for a pound. Destroy the city.

Walking down the street in a crowd, That's just, try it out you have my blessings.

It simply is a lot of fun and to me it seems Punk gets better and better, not worse.

To those who wine about the good old past I say today is great, as well.

This movie is supposed to pull, the trigger for a new movement.

Who wants to know more about the "Chaostage".

Just go there. That is how the magic happens.

There was this strange waggon and we forced the cops back two times but then we run out of stones,

and the cops noticed, overwhelmed us and we escaped.

I went into that constructor's shed where a bunch of hippies smoked joints,

they hid me under their matress, the police came in, but did not find me.

Greetings to Rene, Moni and Svenja and Nancy sitting by my side, the Virginias and the Briefs and all my co-workers.

Mitch, right, Mitch. He had something going on with that chick, what was her name again?

Anita, may be she has been the center of my story from the start, sure she hung out with facists.

But that was over once and for all.

And love is there not just on the surface. It is everywhere, even in your best protected fort.

This love was not just the strongest feeling, no, it was a promise.

Hey communist.

Hey!

Hey, I told that idiots to fuck themselves.

Eddi is mad as hell, but I don't give a damn. I'm through with all that.

What happened to you?

Playing Ninja or what?

That's nothing.

- So what's the deal? I got a plan. - So, what is it?

I would like to get lost for a while. It is quite uncomfortable around here, Punk, Skins and who knows.

Might be that Eddi really goes nuts.

And where do you want to go?

- Doesn't matter if you come along. - I am free as a bird, I will go with you.

My brother will most likely start a house to house search.

- Your brother? - He's a cop, didn't I tell you? - What are you saying?

- But he's totally cool, I could even tell him I am leaving. - No, it is better not to tell anyone.

- Let us just leave now. - Why are you in such a rush? - Are you in?

As I said.

Well, then let's not lose any time.

Let's just drive home, take a few things and off we go.

I can understand he wants to fuck. But a Nazi-chick? No way, dude.

If you look at the way he died, it might occure to you that there was simply nobody laughing about him cause nobody knew him.

Free beer.

Booze, dude.

- Oh boy, why does that take so long? I want beer. - Let s pick up Didi.

Guy, you have to come to the Penny Market, now, I am super serious it's like christmas.

Get the critical mass together and it will explode.

Call it Chaostage, or call it a nap.

Good evening, the "Nordstadt" is in a state of war, hundreds of Punks were responsible for the riots.

I can barely understand you, it is a state of emergency, I'm outta here.

Hit the cops bad, break glass, and to drive in the green "Minna" for one time,

that is the intellectual motivation for the Punks this weekend.

Everybody is out of control. Punks rule the city. There are only a few brave remaining.

- We talk now live to one of the victims. - They are suckers, morons, with their ridiculous hair and all…

Even the guys!

These jackets with that metal crap, shoes nobody normal could walk in.

If one of them would be my kid I would kill him, for sure.

I don't have any kids, not yet, but I got bike.

If one of them touches my bike he's dead. If you asked me, but you do not ask me.

- What is going on here? Let's find out. - No, no, no, LIVE t here!

They can deal with that themselves.

Hey stop! That is it? What happened to Mitch and Anita? Ibiza or Alcatraz? Let's keep that unexplained.

And what's the moral of this story? There is no such thing like moral in that story.

Punk does not play by the rules, everything is put to question in every possible way.

Be it sabotage, denial, violence - simply Chaostage.

If you do not get that then you either are totally egoistic and numb or you simply surrendered already.

Punk is the greatest. We are Punks.

Is our youth more dangerous then ever? Maybe. On the one hand no, because the number of crimes committed

by youngster is shrinking year by year and the majority of young people aims for. On the other hand yes, since crimes committed

by Punks and neo-Fascists are more violent then ever.

Allow me an attempt of explanation. Man kind is not good by nature.

Evil exists, whether politicians and sociologists deny it or not.

And you cannot beat it out of them, even if you wish what I personally do.

A few days ago a police spokesman said it was wrong to take people into custody just because they have a special look, wear leather jackets, metal in their faces and have fancy hair-styles.

I say it's not just right, it is our duty. If our cars, gardens and houses are at risk, there is no space for human rights anymore.