Pistol

Everybody, this is the number one record this week.

We're going to just let it gently rock us

into our exercise half hour.

Feel the way it sways.

Just let it take you from side to side.

Come through, Gary.

Why not join us? Plenty of room.

Uh, make a space for Gary in our wake-up circle.

That's it.

That's it.

That's lovely.

Now, everybody hold hands.

Pauline.

- I've got her. She's over here. - No!

- No! - I've got her.

It's OK. I've got you now. I'm lowering you down.

You're going to be fine.

It's OK. You got her? You got her?

Just a little bit further.

Little bit...

Fuck!

Oi!

Oh, fucking hell.

Yeah!

We're the Sex Pistols,

and our singer don't like hearing himself sing.

It's understandable, really.

I don't like hearing none of youse!

You can't fucking play!

- So what? - Yeah, so what?

Get a haircut, you dirty hippy!

- Fuck off! - Sing, John.

Yeah, encore.

- Who the fuck are you? - Encore! Encore!

Encore! Encore!

- Encore! - Fuck you!

- Shut the fuck up! - What's he fucking doing?

- Piss off! - Fucking idiot.

I always wanted to see this band.

But I regret to inform you, ladies and gentlemen...

...that they are shit!

That's disgusting.

Excuse me, have you paid?

No, right. There you go.

You can't pick two fucking words to put together.

- Pick someone else, then. - Chuck it on a page...

- Boring! - ...that'd be fucking amazing!

Why don't you pick a decent band, then?

At least I picked the band and not a fucking word, mate.

Oi, out the way!

- Fucking given up or something? - Silly cunt!

Can't say I love all of that spitting,

but we're getting better, ain't we?

A little.

- You need originals. - I...

Tell that to our rotten-toothed genius.

The only time that little fucker runs out of words

is when we're trying to write songs.

Speaking of songs, do you wanna come back to mine?

Why would I wanna do that?

Well, we, um...

We didn't finish "Starman".

I think we did.

We didn't, we didn't do the bridge.

There's no bridge in "Starman".

There is when I do it.

- I'm meeting Nick. - Why?

- He's not even in a band. - Chrissie!

True, but he has got impeccable timing.

Good night, Jonesy.

Where are we going?

Where are we going now?

Those monitors...

Nobody likes hearing themselves for the first time.

- Do I always sound like that? - No!

Thank Christ.

No, normally you're much more out of tune than that.

Oh, stay there, stay there.

You were having fun tonight. I could see you up the front.

Jumping up and down.

He's amazing.

Look, singers are all ponces.

It's the guitarist what does all the grunt work,

- if you know what I mean. - I think he's dead clever.

All those sad, angry stories.

They're all covers, he didn't write them.

But he sang 'em like he did.

I played 'em like I did an' all.

I like to play.

I've been told me fingering is quite magnificent.

You want to see what's in my bag, don't you?

Nah, not really.

Good, cos I'm not gonna show ya.

Right, Rotten is more your type.

You have a nice night, love, all right.

You too, bab. Take care.

It's fucking cold out here.

John.

- Yeah? - Er, Neil Spencer, NME.

Oh, the "enemy".

You can say that again.

Tell your readers that it was unhygienic but glorious.

Ah, our guitarist, Steve Jones.

Right, so, uh, what do you wanna say with your music?

Oh, no, actually, we're not into music.

We're into chaos.

Yeah, that's good.

Say I said it. He don't read the NME.

- Too many long words. - Oh, one other thing to mention

is that our only original is written by me.

Half-witten in reference to his half.

Our Wordsmith is 'all handle, no hammer'.

- Can I quote that? - Certainly.

No, you fucking can't!

The problem is that the other morons

can't write music worthy of my lyrics.

Right, and how long's the band been together?

- Six... - Four months.

Seems more.

Right, well I predict you'll have a very long and, uh...

happy future.

- Night-night. - Thank you.

Thanks so much for coming.

...fucking having a go about me like that

in front of other people.

Do you have a press pass or anything for that?

Er, no, I'm... I'm a student. I...

I just filmed it cos I liked it.

Well, I'm not happy. I should confiscate that.

No, no. It belongs to the film school. Look...

I'm not trying to make money or anything, it's just...

I've never seen anything like this before.

You know, the Sex Pistols, man, they're like...

the only thing happening in London right now, and...

I wanna capture it.

Look, wait!

Fuck!

There goes my ride.

I remembered...

"Starman" does have a bridge.

Bored yet?

- Uh... - You said,

as soon as you have sex, you get bored.

I said, as soon as feelings are involved, I get bored.

Mm.

I'm not bored.

As long as we keep it about the music.

Good.

Cos I'm gonna go.

All right, then.

- Let's try again. - I don't wanna sing like that.

We don't want him sounding like Mario Lanza.

What do you want to sound like?

Well, I mean, I was thinking of a kind of Bowie-ish...

Elvis Presley sort of sound,

with maybe a dash of Alice Cooper.

Shut up, Malcolm!

Perhaps it might be best if you waited outside.

No, John needs...

Wait outside or I'll shove Beethoven's head up your arse!

OK.

- Now, I'll just be outs... - Out!

When I was young, I wanted to sing like Maria Callas.

- She's an opera singer. - I know who Callas is.

Greek.

One of the greatest. Bit of a diva.

- I'm impressed. - Why?

Because I look like a shabby little moron

who don't know a treble clef from a cleft palate?

- Not at all. - I don't, by the way.

No need to.

You're going to tell me that after wasting your youth

trying to be UK Callas,

you finally realised that the only person you could be

was... you,

and that realisation brought you true happiness,

et cetera, et cetera.

Bugger! You've guessed my best trick.