Sid and Nancy

Synopsis: Morbid biographical story of Sid Vicious, bassist with British punk group the Sex Pistols, and his girlfriend Nancy Spungen. When the Sex Pistols break up after their fateful US tour, Vicious attempts a solo career while in the grip of heroin addiction. One morning, Nancy is found stabbed to death and Sid is arrested for her murder.
Director(s): Alex Cox
Production: New Line Cinema
  Nominated for 1 BAFTA Film Award. Another 4 wins & 1 nomination.
Rotten Tomatoes:
112 min

[Man #1] We've got a domestic

violence report on 21st street,

between sixth and central

at the chelsea hotel.

Domestic violence

at Chelsea Hotel.

[Man #2]

We got a 911 report coming in.

Nearest unit,

please respond.

D.v. Report.

Domestic violence, Chelsea Hotel.

[Radio chatter, indistinct]

[Radio chatter continues]


Who called 911?

Did you call 911?

Did you call 911?


Get sal in here.

Keep the f***in' press back,

will you?

[Woman crying]

No! Let's go, kid.

Sid didn't do this.

He didn't do this.

She was nice. She was.

You know the type. She's a camp

follower. She was a camp follower.

She would go to bed with anyone,

as long as they were part of a group.

Now, officer, please,

we try to check everybody.


Sid and Nancy, they were heroin addicts?

[Man #2]

No, man, they didn't do any drugs.

- [Man #3] we don't allow junkies in here,

ever. - Yeah, man. Listen, come here.

Listen, I'm on my way downtown.

You got a couple bucks?

I don't have any money,

all right? Come on, man.

I make it a policy.

I never... Hey, Sid.

There he is. That's sid.

Hey, that's Sid Vicious!

[All clamoring]

Hey, what happened, Sid?

[Clamoring continues]

Why don't you smile for us, Sid?

Send him away.

Yeah, smile.

Give us a big smile.

Why did you do it, kid? I thought the

register said you were married.

Who was the chick,

your groupie?


Get out, Billy. Goddamn it!

He bit my hand!

That f***er bit

my goddamn hand!

I said get out! What the hell you

people think this is, a f***in' mets game?

Get out!


You made him mad, kid.

You're in big trouble.

I'll see you later,

punk. Big trouble.


Why you so tense, kid?

Look, we just wanna know

who the girl was.

Where did you meet her?




I met her at Linda's.


Who's Linda?

[Man shouting]

Linda! Lin! [Sid] Linda!

- Lindy!

[Dog barking]

[Continues barking]

Go on.

Go on, Sidney.

Spray the beast.


Come on.

That's a really good dog. Boring!







Piss off,

dog meat! Linda!

Linda! Lin! Linda!

- [Whistles] Oi, linda!

- Linda!

[Shouting continues]

It's a real waste

to smoke that sh*t.

Don't you

have any needles?

[Glass breaking]


I wonder who that is.


Naughty boys.


We're vacant we don't f***ing care

no. No "f***ing".

Not "we don't f***ing care."

How many times

do I have to tell you? I don't care.


Hey, linda, guess what.


You two got married?

No, I'm the bass player...

in the Osmonds!

- What happened to the other bloke?

- He washed his feet too much.

Sidney never

washes his feet.

What's for tea?

Baked beans or champagne.




You f***er.

Nancy, this is Sid and John.


And they are... the Sex Pistols.

I love the Sex Pistols.

I have all your albums

back in New York.

Oh, yeah?

Well, where's that then?

[Record scratching]

Hi, Johnny .

I'm Sid.

He's Johnny .

So, playing

a gig tonight?

"Playing a gig tonight?" Yeah, we're

playing a gig tonight. So what?

So I can come and check you out

and see if you're as sh*t as people say.

[Sarcastic laughter]

F***in' great we are.

The sex pistols.

Do yourself a favor.

Boring, Sidney.

Boring, boring.

Boring, boring, boring.

Exterminate. Exterminate.

Boring, boring, boring. Exterminate.

Exterminate! Exterminate!


Exterminate! Exterminate!



Lovely girls and different girls.

All nude all the time.

Step inside and have

the time of your life.

Come on, sir. Take your clothes

off and have your dinkle tinkled.

Here we go.

Good evening, boys.

Would you like to step inside?

These bints, they ain't foreign,

is they?

No, of course not, sir.

Every one an English rose.

They grow on you.

Oh, f***.

The doorway to the seedy

underbelly of London.

Step right up.

Is it f***ing worth it?

Yes, it is!

Bind me, tie me chain me

to the wall what a scumbag.

I wanna be a slave

for you all come on.

Oh, bondage up yours

oh, bondage no more

oh, bondage up yours

oh, bondage no more

chain gang, chain smoke

I consume you all

chain gang, chain mail

I don't care at all

oh, bondage

up yours


Thanks for tellin' me.

Did you see me

knock that hippie?

Good, eh?

Get up there and fulfill our contractual

obligations, all right?

Good god,

what's this?

A bass guitar.

Hey, sid. There's dick dent.

Who's dick dent?

He's just some wankin' journalist...

who don't appreciate

the Sex Pistols.

Go get him, Sidney.


Hey, Sidney.

Come on when you're ready.

- All right.

- One, two...

one, two, three, four.

I, I, I, I

I'm not your steppin' stone

I, I, I, I

I'm not your steppin' stone

where's the f***in' bass?

I try to make a mark

in society

you're using all the tricks

that you used on me

I know you got your baby

in the magazines

f*** it!

The clothes you're wearing

are causing a scene

I, I, I, I

I ain't your steppin' stone?

Fat bastards!

I, I, I, I

I'm not your steppin' stone

I, I, I, I

I'm not your steppin' stone

I, I, I, I

I ain't your steppin' stone?

Ah, steppin' stone


[shouting, cheering]


You know, I was so...

I was so bored once...

that I f***ed a dog.


Why, Sidney, how low can you get?

I'm cold.

Is it in yet?


Well, maybe.









Shut the f*** up! [Man] shut up!

F*** off!

Shut up.

Take me f***in' eye out.


I'm starving.

I'm so hungry.

I want a pizza.


You smell like

a f***in' pizza.


Shut up.


F***in' jesus christ.

You're not

getting anything.


You heard.

F***ing americans. That's

all you ever think about... sex.

None of us fucks, see?

Sex is ugly.

None of your

free hippie love sh*t here.

You're insane.

Give me me blanket.

F*** off!



F***in' a**hole.


How vile.

Sex is boring.

Ugly hippie sh*t.

F***in' insane too.

F***in' insane.

[Hard rock on stereo]

Get the darts, Paul.

Show me your hands.

Keep 'em where I can see 'em.

I'm watchin' you,

you bastards.

Hey, Paul.

You f*** off! F*** off!

Steady on, boys.


It's not funny.

You could stick me in the eye.

Put it in me brain.

I couldn't play the drums then.

You can't play the f***ing drums anyway.


And speaking of c*nts

who can't play.

Hello, girls.

Where'd you get your perms?

You old Rod Stewart


You f***in' tick. Any chance

of running your mascara?

I don't mean to be

mundane or anything,

but I either need

the drugs or the money.

I'm broke. I need it.

It's 50 quid.

F*** you!

[John laughing]

Sh*t. You get

the f*** out!


Mr. Rotten, I'm so pleased...

four more pints, sid.

What do you think of Northern Ireland?

It's all right where it is.


What's the matter?

Are you all right?


Why, do I look

all right?

That f***er in there

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Alex Cox

Alexander B. H. Cox (born 15 December 1954) is an English film director, screenwriter, nonfiction author, broadcaster and sometime actor. Cox experienced success early in his career with Repo Man and Sid and Nancy, but since the release and commercial failure of Walker, he has directed his career towards independent films. Cox received a co-writer credit for the screenplay of Terry Gilliam's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998) for previous work on the script before it was completely rewritten by Gilliam. As of 2012, Cox has taught screenwriting and film production at the University of Colorado, Boulder. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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