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Matt, just a quick one. I know you're an innocent. There's a bit of strong language in this episode. Swearing? Yeah. OK, I'll brace myself. MUSIC
The Matt Meister General. Okay, hello. We'll just let it hang in the air. Okay, have I got a treat for you today. Let me give you a clue. What is your favourite thing in the whole world that begins with P? Oh, pasties. Oh, yeah. Second favourite thing? Pastries. That's the same thing. Okay, one more thing. It's music. Oh, the Philharmonic Orchestra. Oh, I forgot you like that. It's more anarchic than that. Pans People. Pans People.
Do you know what? Forget it. The answer is actually punk. One letter away. You're going to love this. It's October the 12th, 1978, midday, London. Malcolm McLaren is in his company office. He wears a well-cut fitted suit and drags on a cigarette. He's the manager of the infamous punk band, The Sex Pistols. He's wading through the company accounts when the phone rings. He's eager to take his mind off the figures in front of him. Hello? Hello?
Malcolm? Is that you? It's Les Hinton from The Post. I'm calling from New York.
Malcolm has a long-standing relationship with the press. Over the last few years, he's fed them countless stories to keep himself and the band constantly in the news. Oh, hello, Les. What can I do for you? Have you heard from Sid Vicious this morning? Sid Vicious is the bass player in the Sex Pistols. Or rather, he was. The band are now in disarray and Sid is living in New York with his girlfriend, Nancy. Sid Vicious is the bass player in the Sex Pistols.
The line from New York crackles. Malcolm presses the receiver closer to his ear. Is there a problem, Les? Les? Look, I hope you're sitting down, Malcolm. I've got some terrible news. Malcolm's heart beats in his chest. He's used to crazy things happening on a daily basis these days. You don't expect a quiet life when you manage a punk band. But he always deals with it. That's his job.
What is it? What's happened? Has he trashed another hotel room? I don't know how to tell you this. It's Nancy. She's dead. Dead? What? How? The police are saying she's been stabbed. They've arrested Sid. He's been charged with second-degree murder. Malcolm slumps back in his chair. He begins to shake. How the hell is the band going to come back from this one? Yeah, and someone's been murdered, Malcolm. That seems important too.
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As an Audible member, you choose one title a month to keep from their entire catalogue. New members can try Audible free for 30 days. Visit audible.com slash WonderyPod or text WonderyPod to 500-500. That's audible.com slash WonderyPod or text WonderyPod to 500-500. From Wondery, I'm Alice Levine. And I'm Matt Ford. And this is British Scandal. ♪
The show where we bring you the murkiest stories that ever happened on these odd little aisles. British scandals come in many shapes and sizes. Some are about money, some are about sex. They're all about power. But when we look at scandals a little bit closer, they turn out to be stranger, wilder and just plain weirder than we remember. So we're journeying back to ask who's to blame for what happened. And when the dust settled, did anything really change? MUSIC
So, Matt, this is a very different feel to what we've done before. But like all of our scandals, this story defined an era. In fact, it defined the culture. Yeah, we're still living with the effects of it now. And what I love about this is a lot of the previous series we've covered have dealt with the shake-up of the establishment. But punk music and the Sex Pistols had an effect on normal people just sat at home watching them on TV. This was so disruptive and it's easy to forget that. Yeah, and it's got everything there's...
Sex, smashing stuff up, drugs, rock and roll. And as we become used to the other side of the coin, there's also so much darkness in this story. Addiction, rage. It's going to be a roller coaster. This is episode one, The Wrong John. It's spring 1972. 430 The King's Road, London. 26-year-old Malcolm McLaren is standing in front of his newly refurbished shop. There's a black and white banner hanging outside that says, "'Too fast to live, too young to die.'"
Malcolm runs the shop with his girlfriend, Vivienne Westwood. Originally, it had been called Let It Rock. It had a 50s vibe. He and Vivienne sold suits and brothel creepers to the local teddy boys. Brothel creepers? Calm down, they're just a type of shoe. OK, funny old name. Stays in the mind. Recently, the place has had a revamp and Vivienne has started to customise T-shirts. Inside, everything looks great.
There's murals on the wall, a jukebox, even a fake lamppost. But Malcolm isn't happy. Not even with a fake lamppost? I know, what more do you want? He sighs, bored. Having studied at four different art schools, Malcolm sees himself as an artist, not a shopkeeper. A car pulls up next to the shop. A thin man with long jet black hair emerges out of the back like a skinny spider. He addresses Malcolm with a drawling American accent.
Malcolm looks at the man. He seems... familiar. When the shop first opened, Malcolm loved it. But recently it's started to lose its appeal. He and Vivian have been together for nearly six years. They've got a four-year-old son, but their relationship is rocky. There's not a lot of money around, and the couple are ill-suited. Vivian, who's five years older than Malcolm, is hard-working, talented and responsible.
Whereas Malcolm is skittish, emotionally absent and easily distracted. Is that me and you? I won't ask which way round. Some of this can be put down to his upbringing. He was raised by his eccentric grandmother, Rose. She doted on Malcolm, but had also put some funny ideas into his head. When he misbehaved at school, she'd simply say, To be bad is good, because to be good is to be simply boring. And who wants to be boring? Well, the other children in the class were trying to learn.
I'm imagining you standing on a chair and being like, well, actually, Malcolm, we're here to get our GCSEs, so pipe down. And that's the problem. Malcolm might have a cool shop on the King's Road, but he's bored. He's an agitator with no one other than Vivian to agitate. He blinks his blue eyes at his spidery American visitor. This is world-famous rock star Alice Cooper. Malcolm introduces himself. I'm Malcolm. I own this shop.
I'm looking for a t-shirt, man. Something one-off. You think you can help? I've got a couple of gap ones out back. Malcolm's day just got a lot more interesting. He's now dressing Alice Cooper.
This is a man who knows about agitating. A man who will go on to outrage the establishment when he releases a song called School's Out a few months later. They're all slagging school off. Some of us just wanted to get on in life. What would yours have been? School's started and I'm thrilled. Yeah, school started five minutes ago, Alice. We're all waiting for you, mate. It plants an idea in Malcolm's head. The music business sounds exciting, but he can't sing.
What if he had a band he could manage, though? And this is the story of Westlife. Scene two, five stools. It's the early hours of the 2nd of July, 1973. The Hammersmith Odeon. 18-year-old Steve Jones and his best mate, Paul Cook, are sneaking onto the stage. Paul, be quiet. We don't want to wake security.
David Bowie is due to play here tomorrow and all his equipment has been set up ready. Steve approaches an expensive looking amp. Quickly, he snips the wires with a set of pliers. Then he spots the microphones. Hey look, those are worth 500 quid a piece. This is a fantastic haul and it will go with all the other kits Steve has stolen over the last few months. He's determined for their band to be a success.
they just need a few things. So far, he's got a strobe tuner from a Roxy Music concert, two guitars from Rod Stewart's mansion, and he's also nicked a fur coat from Ronnie Wood. ♪
Hang on, how's he nicked all this stuff? So Steve was a bit of a career criminal when he was a kid. He used to pretend to be a member of the road crew so that he could just nick whatever he wanted. Cool. But he also used to break into people's houses. Oh, OK. He was just a burglar. A burglar, yeah. But career criminal, I think, is what you put on LinkedIn. He stole the fur coat from Ronnie Wood's house on Richmond Hill. He also stole bits of drum kit from the BBC studios at Shepherd's Bush and a colour TV from Keith Richards' house.
Did people not have burglar alarms in the 70s or big dogs? Well, I know, but he did get caught a few times. He did do a year for it. On behalf of all us law-abiders, I'm glad to hear it. Even though I'm slightly rooting for him now. The lads quickly and efficiently pile their booty into a van that's waiting outside. Booty meant something very different back then. My favourite bit is the van is stolen, of course. Amazing!
Steve and Paul are in a band called The Strand with a few mates. Steve is the singer and Paul's on drums. Steve's dream is for the band to be huge, but they don't have a bass player or any gigs or any clue of what they're doing. Steve has barely been to school. He's had a tough childhood and finds reading and writing difficult. What he needs is someone to set them on the right track, someone connected and clever. Steve thinks he knows the perfect guy. There's only one problem. It's someone he steals from.
Take your balaclava off in the meeting and it'll be fine. Covent Garden Community Centre, London, 1975. Malcolm is listening to Steve and Paul's band play for the first time. They've been practising hard, but it sounds bad. Malcolm wants to chase Steve down the street after he nicked a T-shirt from the shop. But Malcolm likes Steve. He's a proper little artful dodger, a bit rough around the edges and definitely not good or boring. He wants to give the band a chance.
Malcolm is still searching for excitement outside of the fashion business. Over the last year, the shop has had another refit. It's now called Sex and sells fetish clothes. Thanks to Vivian, things are going really well. But that's not enough for Malcolm. He gestures for them to stop. You've got something, but Steve, you can't sing. Stick to playing guitar and you need a bass player. I know someone who might be interested.
17-year-old Glenn Matlock has been working at sex on Saturdays. Malcolm finds him a bit too shy and normal. Finally, a voice of reason and normality in this story. A spirit animal for you, Matt. Glenn learnt to play the guitar at school and is very into his music. A few days later, Steve and Paul meet Glenn and arrange to hear him play. He gets through one verse of one song and he's hired. They start rehearsing in earnest.
By the time they perform again for Malcolm, things have changed. They sound all right. But Malcolm is still not happy. He narrows his eyes. He's made a decision. I'm sorry, boys, you lot are promising, but right now it's not enough. You lack an edge. I've got other things I need to do. And with that, he buys a one-way ticket to New York. He's going to use his contacts from the shop to break into the music business. He's going for the big time in the Big Apple.
It's May 1975. Malcolm has been in New York for nearly six months, and now he needs to get out of there, fast. He climbs the steps to a brownstone house on 12th Street. He looks up and down the street and rings the bell.
It all started out so well. He met a guitarist called Sylvain Sylvain at the start of the year, and soon he was managing his band, the New York Dolls. But the New York Dolls were not in a good place. Malcolm had to pay for three out of five of them to get treatment for drug and alcohol problems. He then rented a loft and got them rehearsing again. Out went the glam rock look, and in came patent red leather. But not long after playing a comeback gig, the Dolls broke up.
Malcolm and Sylvain then tried to start another band, but that didn't come to anything either. Now Malcolm is broke and in debt. People are chasing him for money. In his hand is a suitcase full of stock from his shop in London. Hi, it's Malcolm. I've got the clothes. I can't believe he's now sending clothes door to door. He's such a hustler. This place is full of music biz types. It's busier than Malcolm expected. He might do well here. He starts to unpack.
Within minutes, he's approached by rock photographer Bob Gruen. I'll take the leather T-shirt with the zip. You like it? I love it. You've got a great eye, Malcolm. Listen, I heard the dolls split up. Sorry to hear you're going home. Shame there's no one like the dolls in London. They were one of a kind. Actually, I've already got a band lined up. Whoa, really? Already? What are they called? The
I can't say. It's all top secret. But once I'm allowed to talk about it, I'll let you know, Bob. Maybe you could come over to London and photograph them. They look great, especially the lead singer. Really charismatic. Hang on, he's just making all this stuff up, isn't he? He's a blagger. Yep, top of the head. Especially since The Strand are the only band he's been talking to and they don't even have a lead singer. Amazing.
That'll be $50, please, Bob. For a T-shirt? It's a one-off, just like me. So charming, isn't he? So charming you could sell you a leather T-shirt. On the 12th of May, 1975, Malcolm catches a flight back home. There's no choice now. He's going to have to make the Strand a success. August 1975, 430 The King's Road, London. Malcolm looks around the shop. It looks incredible now. Vivienne has made a real success of things...
Sex is the place to be, and it's attracting the coolest customers. But Malcolm is focused on the band. He's been struggling to find a lead singer. No one he's met so far has the star quality he's looking for. He's hassling Vivian for suggestions. She's distracted, trying to deal with customers. I need a real star. Someone a bit dangerous. Yeah, that'd be £5.95, love. OK, that's £7.04 is £15, and there's change. It's nothing not about Vivian Westwood.
Look, there's two lads that come in here at the weekend. They're both called John. One of them's got something. He looks dangerous and he'd look good in our clothes. Malcolm asks around. Vivian's two Johns are 19-year-old John Lydon and his friend from Hackney Technical College, Simon John Ritchie. The next weekend, John Lydon walks into the shop and Malcolm's on him. He can see this guy might have something.
A few days later, it's a hot August evening. Malcolm brings John through to the back of the shop. Steve, Paul and Glenn are sitting there, looking expectant. It's the audition. John wears a ripped T-shirt and an angry stare. He also has green hair. Have you brought anything to sing? Turns out, he hasn't. Okay, why don't you just mime to something on the jukebox? Choose a song, anything you fancy.
John flicks through. Eventually he goes for an Alice Cooper song called I'm 18. Malcolm hands him a shower attachment for a mic. Yeah, we've all got shower attachments just knocking around the place. John looks nervous. It's not quite the X Factor this, is it? I thought that was so beautiful. I love what you did with that. Do you know any Adele? John, three yeses. I'm sorry, you've got to pack a bag and go because you're going through the judges' houses.
John Lydon on the X-Fans. It's all I've ever wanted my whole life. Can you imagine the makeover when they put all the veneers in and give him a really bad tweed suit with trainers? They'd split the Sex Pistols up, wouldn't they? Malcolm tries to put him at ease. Now, when the music starts, just pretend you're the lead singer. He starts jerking around, throwing crazy shapes. He gyrates and gurns and generally looks angry. Steve, Paul and Glenn look alarmed.
As the music stops, there's a stunned silence. Imagine seeing that for the first time. We've grown up knowing who the Sex Pistols are. If they never existed before and that's the first time you've seen John Lydon behaving like that, you'd blow your mind. In a back room of a shop on the King's Road. It's just surreal. It's amazing. But Malcolm is grinning. He's found his lead singer. And he's not sung a single note. That could be a problem, right? We'll deal with that later.
A few days later, Vivian sees John Lydon with the band. She pulls Malcolm aside. You've picked the wrong John. She'd meant Simon John, not John Lydon. You're playing with fire, Malcolm. John Lydon isn't just dangerous. He hates everything. He's a nightmare. And Malcolm, he's very clever. But Malcolm doesn't care. He'll prove her wrong.
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It's Thursday the 6th of November 1975. The Common Room at St Martin's School of Art, London. It's the band's first gig. They now have a new name, Sex Pistols. It's been Malcolm's idea to include the name of the shop. It's a good job he had a cool sounding shop because had it been named something else that band name could have been terrible. What are you thinking? The Cost Cutter Pistols, the Londis Pistols. The Sex Pistols are on first. They're supporting a band called Bazooka Joe.
The common room is small and there's an audience of about 40. Steve is on guitar, Paul on drums, Glenn on bass. John Lydon is up front as the lead singer. They're using Bazooka Joe's equipment. John, who's downed a few vodkas, paid for by Malcolm, is dressed in pinstripe trousers with braces. Glenn is wearing a woman's leather top. Probably cost him 50 quid. Malcolm's in the audience with Vivian, bossing everyone about.
Steve is so nervous, he pops a mandrax. A what? It's a quaalude. So that's made it less understandable, not more. Have you seen The Wolf of Wall Street? Yes. You know when he pops those pills? Yes. And then he's on the steps? Yes. It's the best scene. Yeah. A bit of that to get you in the mood for the gig. Wow. We should do some. I'm so glad you said that on tape. Team Night Out. The band have been rehearsing these last couple of months, but this is scary stuff. They play through a series of messy covers...
They're loud, but they're too loud in this tiny room. The audience are drifting away, but then John gets a packet of sweets. He pops one into his mouth and sucks on it. Then he spits it out at the audience. He immediately pops another sweet into his mouth. Malcolm loves it. It's provocative. He chooses to ignore the I-told-you-so looks that Vivian is throwing his way. This is the edge, the danger he wanted.
But then John ramps things up. He starts kicking Bazooka Joe's speakers. Bazooka Joe's guitarist is not having that. He leaps up on stage and pins John up against the wall. Gives him a big kiss. Oi, apologise for what you've just done or I'll kick your head in. John swears at the guitarist. Are you going to act that bit out as well, Alice? I tell you what I will do. I will do it at you, but we'll probably have to bleep it. OK. This is what he called them. A bunch of fucking c***.
It's like watching a nun swear. It actually felt really good. This might be the start of something. It looks like things are really going to kick off, but then the organisers step in. The gig is over. Malcolm frantically tries to reason with everyone involved, but the Sex Pistols' first gig has ended in chaos. If this band is going to work, Malcolm needs to fix things fast. He needs to find a way of controlling John. Not completely. He likes his style, but he can't be having fights on stage.
But managing John, as Vivian predicted, is never going to be easy. It's the 30th of March 1976. The Pistols are playing at the 100 Club on Oxford Street. In the last four months, Malcolm has had the band playing regular gigs and rehearsing hard. He's also set some ground rules: no more mandrakes, no more fights.
He might love chaos, but he knows from his time with the Dolls that for a band to succeed, they need to be drug-free and have structure and focus. Finally, Malcolm, seeing a bit of sense. Just a good rule for life. Stay drug-free, have structure and focus. Now that they're getting better, they even have a regular audience. A group of fans, known as the Bromley Contingent, have started to turn up at gigs. They wear bondage outfits, gothic make-up and have dyed spiky hair.
John's mate, Simon John Ritchie, also tags along. A.K.A. The Wrong John. Forever the wrong John. He's invented a pogo dance. He jumps about down the front to the band's new songs. John Lydon has acquired the stage name Johnny Rotten due to his teeth. And Malcolm has hired a friend from art school to produce publicity material for the band.
All together, the Sex Pistols have a good image, catchy names, a fan base and some original songs. Well done, Malcolm. But there's a problem. I knew there was going to be a problem. Glenn and John are rowing on stage. John, what the hell are you doing? You're singing the wrong lyrics. Do you want a fight? We're in the middle of a gig, John. I'm playing the bass. We can't have a fight. Then I'm going home.
People stop spitting at each other. It's disgusting behaviour. If you don't get back on that stage, you're over. You're out.
Malcolm holds his breath. He knows John needs this band as much as he needs John. Being Johnny Rotten is the best thing that's ever happened to you and you know it. Now you either get back up there or I'll replace you. John looks back at him for a moment, inscrutable. Then he rolls his eyes and does as he's told. Not very punk. So true. Malcolm sighs. John is seriously hard work. But this time, he's won the battle.
It's the 20th of September 1976. Malcolm is on his way to meet the band in rehearsals. After the hottest summer since 1940, today it looks like rain. For the last nine months, the Pistols have been playing gigs up and down the country. They're getting better at their instruments, and they've written some original songs, including Anarchy in the UK and Pretty Vacant. At last, Malcolm makes a decision. They're ready to be launched on the world.
The next thing is to get a record deal. But before that, he needs to get them to sign a management contract. OK, this is good. Get things in writing. Get it official. Yeah, exactly. It's been really casual until now, but this is how Malcolm's going to make his money. Basically, he needs to officially manage them before he can get them a deal. Malcolm has bought an off-the-shelf company for £100. It's called Glitterbest.
Together with a company lawyer, he's had the band's contract made up. The terms state that the band members will assign all aspects of their professional lives to the company. Glitter Best will take 25% of their earnings, and in return, they get a share of 50% of merchandise profits. They are very good terms for Malcolm. Malcolm sits the band down and gets out the contract. Right, so everyone look over the paperwork, see what's what. Then if you're happy, sign your names here.
No one wants to be doing this. Contracts are boring. All the band members are young and extremely uninterested in paperwork. Steve is barely literate. Glenn, however, does speak up.
Before we sign anything, Malcolm, I think I'd like to seek some legal advice. Yes, very sensible, Glenn. Good idea. Malcolm tuts. Oh, come on, Glenn. That'll just drag things out. Just read it and let's get on with it. Oh, I don't trust Malcolm. No, Malcolm, I really think we need legal advice before signing anything. Yes, yes. Malcolm takes a breath. Then he smiles.
John, do you want to get a lawyer? You read it, Glenn, then I'll sign it. If it's wrong, it's your fault. Oh, Malcolm is such a manipulator. Glenn slumps back into his chair. John loves winding him up and Malcolm knows exactly which buttons to press.
Glenn reads the contract, but with no lawyers for the band present, they all sign. Malcolm watches them. They don't seem to notice that there's a clause in the contract that says the name Sex Pistols is created and owned by Malcolm McLaren. I've got a feeling that's going to become an issue in the future. That might come back to bite us. That evening, the Sex Pistols headline a two-day punk festival back at the 100 Club. There's queues around the block.
Also on the bill are The Clash, Subway Sect, The Damned and Susie and the Banshees. It's the Banshees' first gig. Their lead singer, Susie Sue, is one of the Bromley contingent. Their drummer for tonight is Simon John Ritchie. The other John, so he finally made it into a band. Other John, and he not only made it into another band, he's now going by the name of Sid Vicious. Oh man, this is the birth of a legend.
Sid hasn't had a good night, though. His performance with the Banshees has been a bit of a shambles. He's always been a bit lost. He's had a difficult life growing up. His mum is a drug addict. He craves attention and is easily influenced. Well, this is all going to work out fine. A well-adjusted man on his route to success. He wants to be in a band too, but he just can't play. On the second night of the festival, the Damned take to the stage. MUSIC
There's been a bit of rivalry between them and the Sex Pistols. Sid thinks the damned are rubbish and he wants to show his allegiance to the Sex Pistols. He throws a beer glass at the stage. The glass hits a pillar, shatters and showers the audience. Several people are cut and a girl has a glass splinter in her eye. It's a horrible scene. It's awful. Can people just behave, please? Sid is pulled out of the audience and arrested. He's bundled into a police van where he's beaten up.
The next day, the Sex Pistols are banned from the 100 Club and Sid is sent to Ashford Romand Centre. The Pistols are getting a reputation and it's not a good one. Malcolm can only hope it doesn't put a stop to their big record deal.
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It's the 27th of September, 1976. Malcolm is on his way to meet the bosses of the EMI record label at EMI House in London.
No small record company for him. He wants to strike a deal with the people who signed The Beatles and Queen. He's wearing a bright red suit for the occasion. Malcolm has no experience of dealing with big record companies. He does, however, have a demo tape, a lot of press and bags of confidence. Today, he's going to see Nick Mobs, a man who dresses in denim. Is that what he's going to see him about? He's going to sell him a leather T-shirt? That is how he's made his fortune, just selling lots and lots and lots of 50-quid T-shirts.
The meeting doesn't start well. Mobs isn't convinced that the pistols will translate to record. Malcolm pleads his case. I know they might not be your taste, Nick, but if you don't help these kids, then God help the industry. If you can't sign something this new and young in front of your eyes, then you're living in the past and you might as well shut up shop.
Malcolm's pitch works. Mobs goes to see his bosses at EMI and tries to convince them to authorise his signing of the Sex Pistols. He has to work hard. His label manager has heard about the violence at the 100 Club. He's wary.
But Mobs gets his way. Malcolm then pushes like crazy to get the deal done as quickly as possible. The whole thing takes less than 24 hours. That is suspiciously quick. Really quick. Sort of unheard of. So quick, I don't trust that it's a good deal for the Sex Pistols. On the 8th of October 1976, the group officially signed to EMI. They receive a £40,000 non-returnable advance against future royalties...
£20,000 was payable on signing the deal, with £20,000 due a year later. On 10 October, the band record Anarchy in the UK as their first single. They record it in two takes, but no-one at the record company likes the result, so they re-record it with Pink Floyd producer Chris Thomas. He overdubs Steve's guitar, giving the track a fuller sound. John isn't happy. He hates Pink Floyd.
But Malcolm isn't listening to John's complaints anymore. In the last year, he's turned this bunch of misfits and petty criminals into a success. They should be grateful to him. Now all Malcolm needs to do is make them famous. It's the evening of the 1st of December, 1976. Malcolm is terrified. He and the band are in the green room at London Weekend Television. That afternoon, Malcolm received a phone call from EMI.
Freddie Mercury has toothache, so Queen have dropped out of an appearance on the Today Show. I mean, with those teeth. If those teeth get toothache, my word. EMI have suggested the Sex Pistols as a last-minute replacement. Malcolm knows it will be good publicity for the single, so he's forced the band into appearing. But now he's regretting it.
John has called up half of the Bromley contingent and they're all here in the green room along with the band. And they're all getting stuck into the TV company's free booze. Malcolm tries to stop them drinking, but it doesn't work. If you don't want the Bromley contingent to drink all your free booze, don't provide free booze. And don't invite the Bromley contingent. The presenter, Bill Grundy, swishes into the green room. He's in his mid-fifties, bit of a comb-over, grey suit. He looks at them with disdain.
Well, you certainly aren't Queen. John, who notices everything, narrows his eyes. He's drunk, you know. Just before six, Grundy takes a seat in the studio. This is so exciting. This is one of the most famous moments in TV history. While Grundy starts the programme, Malcolm tries to calm everyone down. He pleads with them to do a good interview, but it's clear no one is listening.
Their first mistake. That makes three of us. LAUGHTER
The pistols sit in a row, a low coffee table in front of them. I can picture it. Can you picture it? Oh, it's so famous. I love it. Four members of the Bromley contingent, including Susie Sue, stand behind. Grundy swivels in his chair, takes one look at the ragtag bunch in front of him and starts the interview. Malcolm takes a deep breath. He's got a bad feeling about this. This is like the Apollo 11 of TV mistakes.
They're punk rockers, the new craze, they tell me. They're heroes, not the nice, clean Rolling Stones. You see, they're as drunk as I am. They're clean by comparison. They're a group called the Sex Pistols and I'm surrounded by all of them. The contrast between this establishment broadcasting figure and the Bromley contingent is amazing. Seeing them on the monitor, Malcolm bites his lip.
They look crazy next to Grundy in his suit and tie. And Glenn has his feet on the table. I'm told that that group have received £40,000 from a record company. Doesn't that seem to be slightly opposed to their anti-materialistic view of life? It's Glenn who speaks first. Nah, the more the merrier. Really? Oh, yeah. Well, tell me more then. Steve, who's smoking, pipes up. We've fucking spent it, ain't we?
Malcolm gasps, but it appears as though Grundy hasn't heard Steve. He's ploughing on, but Grundy's tone is changing. At first he seemed relaxed, but now he's looking down his nose at Glenn. Now I want to know one thing. Are you serious about what you're doing? Glenn answers him. Oh yeah, you are serious. Grundy is starting to sound patronising. Malcolm knows this isn't going to go down well, especially with John.
Beethoven, Mozart, Bach, Brahms have all died. And that's when a look comes into John's eyes. For the first time, he speaks. They're all heroes of ours, ain't they? Really? What? What are you saying, sir? They're wonderful people. Are they? Oh, yeah. They really turn us on. Oh, no, thinks Malcolm. Please, please don't wind John up. No good can come of this.
Well, suppose they turn other people on? John whispers under his breath. That's just their tough shit. This time, Grundy has heard the rude word. Malcolm puts his head in his hands. It's what? Oh, no. Nothing. A rude word. Next question. No, no. What was the rude word? Shit. Why would you ask him to repeat it on telly? The word hangs in the air for a moment. This time, John is loud and clear...
Malcolm's heart beats in his chest. Was it really? Good heavens. You frightened me to death. Malcolm jumps out of his seat. He needs to stop this now. But how can he? He watches the screen as Grundy's eyes land on Susie Sue. With her blonde, short, cropped hair and only one eye extravagantly painted, she looks like a droog from a clockwork orange. What about you girls behind? Are you just enjoying yourself? Sue, cigarette in hand, nervously touches her ear.
Yeah. Ah, that's what I thought you were doing. I always wanted to meet you. Did you really? Yeah. Grundy can't help himself. He flirts like crazy. We'll meet afterwards, shall we? Sue frowns and pouts. Malcolm doesn't like where this is going. He paces. This can't get any worse, can it? Can it?
And that's when Steve lets Grundy have it. You dirty sod. You dirty old man. Oh my God. Malcolm can't watch. He shouts at the monitor. Grundy needs to wrap this up. Make it stop.
But instead, Grundy's goading them. You've got another five seconds. Say something outrageous. What an idiot. Steve can't resist. You dirty bastard. Oh, my God. Go on. Again. You dirty fucker. This is so good. What a clever boy. What a fucking rotter. No!
You know what? I've changed my opinion. I love him now. And that's it. Time's up. The show's theme tune kicks in. The Bromley contingent dance around the studio. Malcolm bursts into tears. Within minutes, the band, high from excitement, crash back into the green room. Malcolm screams at them. What have you done? We're finished!
For all I've done for you, all I've worked for, you swore on TV. They'll cut all that out, says Steve, reaching for a free drink. It was live! Steve had no idea. The phones at the television company start ringing. It's viewers calling in to complain. Some of those calls go directly to the green room. Steve reaches for the receiver. Hello, Sims Television. Malcolm grabs the phone out of his hand.
Do not touch that. The limo driver from EMI comes running through the door. He's sweating. Everyone needs to leave. I've got to get you lot out of here. Are we in trouble? We've got to go now. Malcolm bundles everyone into the back of the EMI limo. As the car quickly drives away, a vanload of police pull up outside the television company. What the hell? Malcolm watches them in horror.
The next morning, Malcolm picks up the day's newspapers. The Sex Pistols are on the front pages. The filth and the fury runs the headline. The band has caused a national scandal. Malcolm remembers his grandmother's words. To be bad is good, because to be good is to be simply boring. And who wants to be boring? Maybe this won't be so bad after all. And at least it's not boring.
This is the first episode in our series, Anarchy in the UK. If you like our show, please give us a five-star rating and a review and be sure to tell your friends. You can listen to new episodes one week early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app.
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A quick note about our dialogue. In most cases, we can't know exactly what was said, but all our dramatisations are based on historical research. If you'd like to know more about this story, books include England's Dreaming, Sex Pistols and Punk Rock by John Savage, The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren by Paul Gorman, Anger is an Energy by John Lydon, and I Don't Want to Live This Life by Deborah Spungen.
I'm Matt Ford. And I'm Alice Levine. Sarah Woolley wrote this episode. Additional writing by Alice Levine and Matt Ford. Our sound design is by Rich Evans. Script editing by Joseph Lidster. Our senior producers are Joe Sykes and Russell Finch. Our executive producers are Stephanie Jens and Marshall Louis for Wondery. Wondery.
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