Lonely Boy: Tales From a Sex Pistol by Steve Jones

Lonely Boy: Tales From a Sex Pistol by Steve Jones

Author:Steve Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Entertainment & Performing Arts, Music, Genres & Styles, Punk
Publisher: Da Capo Press
Published: 2017-01-10T00:00:00+00:00


18. WHERE’S BILL GRUNDY NOW?

By September 1976, things were really cooking. Cookie even gave us the ultimate vote of confidence by quitting his job. We were playing a special gig in Chelmsford nick the night he finished his apprenticeship, and Paul got so pissed he fell off his drum stool. Roll over Keith Moon and tell John Bonham the news.

The night we played at the opening of some club in Paris on my 21st birthday was another big one. It was the first time I’d been on an aeroplane; my only trip abroad had been to Calais on the ferry with Jimmy Macken a couple of years before. Because I knew Jim could take care of himself, that gave me more licence to be a jack-the-lad than usual. I ended up offering out the whole nightclub and we got beaten up by about fifty geezers. We were lucky to get out alive, really, especially after I nicked some bloke’s camera off the hotel balcony as a souvenir. It’s funny, that British mentality of going abroad and starting fucking trouble, isn’t it? I suppose it goes back to the Empire.

Anyway, I was moving in different circles now. My friendships with Macken and Hayesy had dropped off a bit – I think they felt left out with all the band stuff happening. And that weekend in Paris was amazing. The place was packed out with John Travolta kind of disco people, but we didn’t care. Billy Idol drove the Bromley mob over and they all slept in his van. Malcolm got me the special birthday gift of a brass – obviously not my first, but still, it was the thought that counted – and there are some funny pictures in Ray Stevenson’s Sex Pistols photo book of me looking totally shagged out after I’ve kept everyone waiting while I got the maximum return on McLaren’s investment.

Ray was the photographer brother of Nils, who was kind of our tour manager and mediator whenever trouble broke out (which obviously it did a lot). Nils was basically Malcolm’s guy, but I liked him too cos he was a deviant pussy-hound like me. Between the two of us, we were fucking everything that moved. Cookie wasn’t doing badly either and Glen liked the odd one, though he never exactly steamed in, but Rotten … nothing.

Someone showed me that bit in Viv Albertine of The Slits’ book where she’s trying to suck Rotten off but he’s not into it and he’s blaming her, saying she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Typical Johnny: even when everything’s going his way, he’s still moaning (and I don’t mean in ecstasy). I wouldn’t have complained, that’s for sure.

There was so much shagging going on at this time – at least, there was on my part. Any chance I could get I’d be trying to get my end away, usually in a cupboard or a toilet or an alley round the back of the venue. Those furtive encounters were a big turn-on for me.



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