“Bodies” · Season 1, Episode 3
In this episode: Steve Jones (5), John (5), Paul Cook (3), Glen Matlock (2), Viv (2), Pamela Rooke (2), Malcolm McLaren (1), Chrissie Hynde (1)
[To mental institution patients in a confidence building exercise] 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.
[The band is performing in a club before metalheads and new wave fans]
We're the Sеx Pistols, and our singer don't like hearing himself sing. [Audience cheers] It's understandable, really.
I don't like hearing none of youse!
You can't fսcking play! So what? Yeah, so what?
Get a haircut, you dirty hippy!
Fսck off! Sing, John.
Yeah, encore!
Who the fսck are you?!
[Repeatedly] Encore!
Fսck you! Shut the fսck up!
[John walks over to get a chair] What's he fսcking doing? Piss off! Fսcking idiot!
[Sits in chair and announces] I always wanted to see this band. But I regret to inform you, ladies and gentlemen... [throws chair across room] that they are shit! [Band plays song that ends with punk fans getting into spitting match with metalheads]
Bored yet? Uh... You said, as soon as you have sеx, 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!
Okay. 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 realization brought you true happiness, et cetera, et cetera.
Bugger! You've guessed my best trick.
Thank you. But that sentiment is of no use to me. Last night I was myself. But hearing myself was a bloody nightmare. If you don't want to sing, then don't.
Performing's not for everyone. Perhaps it's not for you.
I'm thinking I need to start being more confrontational with the customers. Yeah, all right, pet. Lovely. If we're not careful, this place could become a shop. and then really, what's the point? Mm. Who are those for?
They're for me, my dear.
How and where are they to be worn?
Well, that's rather private.
I don't think so. This is not a fetish shop. These knickers are the spark plugs of a revolution.
How thrilling.
The proprietors of this establishment are very influenced by William Reich's theories about mass psychology and fascism.
Ah, that explains a lot.
Reich says that fascism is caused by sеxual repression.
I honestly could not agree more.
If we don't start talking about sеx more, and don't stop being so repressed, we're going to end up with a dictator. Isn't that right, Vivienne? We live to proclaim, not to shame.
Sadly, I'm not in a position to proclaim.
Then I can't sell them to you. Can I, Vivienne? Well, I mean, we can always make an exception. Are we going to be on the news?
In a fashion, yes.
The news? What? Oh! That's who you are! That's who he is! You are him, aren't you?!
If I'm wearing these under my suit tonight, I'll give you a wink. Like this. Just for you. That be all right?
Oh, that's lovely. Isn't that lovely? There's no returns on the underwear, OK?
Perish the thought. But not the rubber.
Isn't he lovely? Is there a review?
Hmm?
What's it say, then?
Oh, I'm just reading the small ads. Do you know it's still possible to buy loon pants?
Who is doing that? We should get ourselves a pack of hounds and hunt them down. Look at this one. Got a big bag. Definitely a dipper. I'll cover the door.
I hear that Sеx the Shop is where one can find sеx the Pistols. Johnny. The Marquee. I saw him singing and spitting. It was wonderful. I was wondering if you had his address?
I'm sorry, we don't give out that kind of information. Please open your bag.
But I don't wanna do that.
I'm afraid you have no choice.
No choice?
No.
Oh... That's right.
Please open your bag.
No! Get away from me! [Cries]
Are you all right? I'm sorry. I'm... I'm sorry. It's all right. Let's get you into this chair. Water. I'm sorry. It's fine. You're all right. :Viv: This is my shop. May I be of some assistance, madam?
That's lovely, thank you. So kind.
What kind of assistance would you like?
Oh... Where do I start? I need so much assistance. Every kind, really.
I will need to look in your bag, though.
You're nice. So I don't mind.
No! Get out!
But I don't wanna get out because I do really like it here.
Get out! Get out! Get out!
OK. I... I can see you're really busy.
The bag! Get the bag out of here now!
Go! Next time, eh, bab?
Throw her out!
[To Glen reading newspaper] What's it say?
Typical NME nonsense.
Yeah, so stuck-up.
Mm. Read it out.
Why?
It's our first review. Be nice for us all to hear it out loud together.
I'm not your nursery school teacher.
Sorry, I thought you were, seeing as you dress exactly like her.
[Laughs and throws newspaper across table] Read it yourself.
[Clears throat and reads] Yeah... Typical NME.
Mm.
Not worth reading, to be honest.
Nah. Except for that last bit.
Yeah, Malcolm's gonna love that.
Yeah.
Which bit? Which bit again?
The last bit. [John comes in] Oh, finally! Now we can rehearse! Have you read it?!
Not interested.
Oh, I bet he's read it. I bet he's bought up every copy in Finsbury Park and wallpapered his room with it.
What do you want to be, Glen?
You what?
I know what I wanna be. I wanna be in a band where the geezer what writes the words writes some. "Lazy Sod" might be a bit simple, but it's better than fսck all, which is all you've come up with.
How am I supposed to be inspired, when my collaborators are a mummy's boy, a pleaser, and a moron?
How about I fix your teeth with my guitar? Maybe that'll inspire you.
Yeah, where's all this come from?
The NME's gone to his head.
I have not read it!
Liar!
[He kicks table] Ow!
[Laughs at John who throws a mug at the wall shattering it then storms out] What the fսck?! My favourite mug!
We should get another singer.
[Walking out] Steve, can I have a word? I'm leaving.
Well, I doubt we'll get much done today anyway.
No. I'm leaving the band. For good.
Oh... don't be daft. You can barely play. I'm getting better.
Like John. The guy's a madman. Malcolm is Malcolm. Waste of time.
Yeah, we're gonna be good.
We don't have any songs, Steve. We're a covers band. This is so fսcking boring. I've got an apprenticeship, got a chance. Oh, yeah, your nine-to-five, eight-to-four, or whatever the fսck it is, wage slave.
Fսck off! Is that what you want? Married. Four screaming kids, and before you can blink twice, you're just another boring, defeated old cսոt. Sipping pints at the pub with that look in his eye, "Oh, I wonder where my life went?"
My mum and dad are good people, got good lives, you know that. I'm not saying they're not.
Oh, I know you haven't had none of that.
I'm sorry. I gotta do what's right for me. I'm done.
I'll get it. Oh, well done.
Mum. I need to see Malcolm. There was a girl in the shop looking for you.
I don't care. You will. Tell Malcolm that I'm seriously considering leaving the band.
Good.
You don't even care, do ya?
You think I should?
I wouldn't expect it. That's exactly like you people. Why are you printing swastikas with your children?
Ben knows, don't you?
Mum and Malcolm want to not only reject the values of the older generation but also their, um...
Taboos.
Yeah, taboos. Everything's "anti". That means opposite. Thank you. Jesus is upside down, and I chose pink for this swastika because the Nazis hated homosexuals... and they made them wear pink triangles. Nazis would hate their swastika being pink.
Many millions of Jews might hate a shirt with a swastika on it.
Possibly. But Malcolm's Jewish, and it was his idea. Do you know why nothing ever changes? It's because people's minds are too imprisoned by lies, fear... and a misguided respect for the very institutions that have exploited them for centuries. I want to destroy all that, so that out of the chaos... the future can emerge. We don't hate Jews, or gays, or Christians. We don't hate anyone, do we?
No.
Except for Nazis. And racists and fascists in general. And people who are too boring or scared to stand up and say what they mean. Goodbye, John.
How's that for a melody?
Was that last chord a 'B' suspended 7th of an augmented 'E'?
[Laughs] Don't be ridiculous. Just an 'E' on the bass over...
Oh, Jesus! Glen! We're not in a Paul fսcking McCartney fսcking tribute band!
It's a great melody!
If you're a pensioner! What are the chords?
'C' suspended 2nd.
'C'! [Plays amplified riff] Right? But played like a punch in the face. Next.
'F' major 7th suspended 2nd.
'F'.
Yes, that's it.
'F'.
[Plays amplified riff] Right? Played like a kick in the guts.
'E' on the bass over an open 'C'.
'E'! Played like a fսcking sеx Pistol! [Plays amplified riff repeatedly]
[Comes in and repositions mic stand] Give me a tune. Give me a tune, and I'll give you words.
Paul's leaving the sеx Pistols.
Eh? Mm. Oh. Does this mean we get the kit back in the bedroom?
No, I'll just sell it.
Okay. Okay.
I thought you'd be happy.
I am. Whatever makes you happy.
These quotes come from Wikiquote's Pistol pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.
