“Who Killed Bambi?” · Season 1, Episode 6
In this episode: John (6), Sid Vicious (5), Steve Jones (4), Malcolm McLaren (3), Paul Cook (2), Viv (1)
[At a Guy Fawkes bonfire] I'm going to blow up the Pistols.
This is about John, isn't it?
It's about art. I have to destroy them.
So that out of the chaos something new and more powerful may emerge.
It's always been my philosophy.
Actually, it's mine. You appropriated it.
Don't be ridiculous.
It's all right. It's a habit of yours. I'm used to it. What about Steve?
He may rise... or he may fall. Chaos shall decide.
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 Yanks.
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. Our government refused to let the four musicians into our country at first because...
[Mimicking an old woman's voice on phone] They're all criminals. You can check the records if you don't believe me.
They refused to talk and went directly to their connecting plane to Atlanta where they have a concert tomorrow night.
Is this where we're staying?
Oh, the glamour!
Okay, okay, okay... Hey! Hey! You're on my turf now.
And what boring turf it is! 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.
Ooh!
What's new?
Hey, this is no joke. From now on, you don't go anywhere without E.K. or Allison.
Why has he got a girl's name? [Laughs] Do you fight like a girl, too, Allison?
Maybe you'll get to find out.
[Laughs] Oh-ho-ho-ho!
Well, I hope so.
Hey, where is Malcolm?
Still in England for all I know.
That would be typical.
Right. Where's the drugstore, cowboy? I need a fix.
No! No hard drugs on my tour.
Huh! Right. Fuck that.
Hey, Warner's have put up a $300,000 bond which they will lose if you commit a felony.
"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 job.
Fucking jobs!
[To Allison] Stick with him. Don't let him score.
I'm warning you, mate, stay out of my face. What are you looking at?
Oh, well... I'm looking at you. [Sid attacks Allison]
Oh, here we go. Shit! Keep going, Sidney! [Allison slams Sid's head into wall] Oh! Keep going, Sid! Oh!
Easy, easy, easy!
Fucking hell!
How do you think I fight now?
Don't kill him. Fucking hell!
Good, good! You fight good. You kidding me?
Allison...
Okay.
[Sid punches Allison in face and band cheers] Never let your guard down. [Allison grabs Sid and slams onto table]
Jesus!
[Takes his seat] Good! Cheers, man. You're all right. Good! This is gonna be great. Do you mind? Any ketchup?
There's a Johnny Rotten inside us all. And he doesn't need to be saved, he needs to be crucified!
...
[To E.K.] I need heroin! Is that so hard to get through your thick fucking skull?
Sidney!
Shut up, John! Please! Please, Mr American Man.
All right. Here. Take some of my Valium. [Hands prescription bottle] It should help. No more than two at a time!
Okay. Can you open it?
...
It's not a bad job, is it? Come on, man! The Sex Pistols...
We got a bus! They do like us in America.
You sit there.
[Referring to sex doll] Right, then, who's gonna fuck her first?
Go on, Jonesy!
One at a time!
...
Anyone got any bog roll?
Oh, shut that door!
We ran out in Memphis.
Smells like something died up your arse.
There's no bog roll left.
Oh, that's worse! Get away!
Steve!
Hello!
Oh! This... is far too fucking fast. Malcolm!
Well, all hail, my slinky southern six-shooters!
[Chuckles] 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. You hear that, Cookie? Me and you may as well piss off and finally go have some fun.
Oh, yeah, sounds good. When are we leaving?
Go! Won't be hardfinding another backing band.
[Chuckles] "Backing band". It's only me and John anyone actually looks at.
Thank fucking Christ they're not listening to you.
Doesn't matter what you sound like, it's what you look like what counts.
Yeah, fuck off, you little junkie.
Who you telling to fuck off?
You!
Brilliant! [Laughs] 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!
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.
Dom Perignon.
You what? I have been in L.A. 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!
Ugh! It'll be fun. Come on, that whole outlaw spirit! And plus, girls don't wear many clothes down Rio way.
Sounds good.
Yeah, I'm game.
You fucking cunt! [Lunges at Malcolm]
Oi! [Repeatedly] Ah...! Hey! You calm down, Shirley Temple. [Chuckles]
[Spits on floor and walks away] Come on, Sidney. Sid!
Don't go running off with that miserable ponce! Come on, let's have some fun, eh?
I fucking hate you for what you did to Nancy. Never forget that.
Oi, what... What about soundcheck?
Oh, just fuck off! Who wants a drink?
If he thinks I'm getting on a plane to Brazil, he can think the fuck again! [Opens door to Steve]
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 putting 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 the number one album in the UK. Who would've thought that? Who would've thought a bunch a working class yobs would ever fucking pull that off?
Exactly! But Malcolm's insane! It's one thing after another. 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 based 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 Warner's 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 was 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? 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.
Think fast. If Malcolm's not gone by tomorrow, tonight will be our last show. Ever.
Another tuneless racket. If you can put up with that, you can put up with anything.
What a lovely fucking group of people.
Where's fucking Beverley?
You'll get one number and one number only because I'm a lazy bastard. This is "No Fun".
[Visiting Sid in Bellevue Hospital] 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.
These quotes come from Wikiquote's Pistol pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.
