The Filth and the Fury Page #4

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who came from the north side | of London,

who used to come | into the shop

probably for the same reasons | we did,

you know, on a Saturday, | whatever...

there was the group of them, | apparently all called "John."

Steve and Paul never believed | we were all called John...

They could never take that.

Sid's real name is John.

Theyjust thought we were

Iike a "Clockwork Orange" gang, | you know -- "The Johns."

I've no idea why | they picked me out...

other than they thought I looked | well different from the pack.

We arranged to meet John | one night...

in a pubjust down the road.

We had a few pints, and then | we came back to the shop.

We gave the singer | an audition

in my shop, later on, | after the pub had closed,

for him to imitate,

and for him | to try to sing along

with an Alice Cooper track | on the jukebox

called "Eighteen", | which I adored.

And he sung it like | "The Hunchback of Notre Dame."

# I'm eighteen #

# And I don't know | what I want #

I always did view myself

as one damn ugly f***er.

I certainly weren't | no belle of the ball.

John just started...

going into spasms | in front of the jukebox,

and singing, | and doing his act,

what later became what everyone | knows and loves, you know.

And I knew right away then | that he was the singer.

He was... gonna be the one, | really.

I personally wouldn't | have got him in the band,

even though he looked | like a star.

I thought he was a wanker for taking | the piss, and he wasn't serious...

But then, after speaking to him | for a while,

I realize that | that was his own insecurity

to take the piss because | he wasn't really a singer.

John was from a different world | from me and Cookie.

He's more of an intellectual, | John.

I knew what Steve was.

I knew he had potential | to be a great person.

There's something in him | that's genuine.

I can see that there's a tragedy | in him, just like in me.

Deep down inside, | they're wounded people.

And then there's Glen...

waffling on about nice things | like the Beatles.

We're the very first people | to call each other c*nts

outright --

face on -- | and know it.

And we are. We all are... | All in our way.

You put all this | together, and it...

it makes for high drama, | a bit like a Harold Pinter play.

It shouldn't work, | but it does.

All our first rehearsals | were a nightmare.

I couldn't hold | a damn note,

Paul couldn't really keep time, | I couldn't play guitar.

I f***ing hated it. | It was just a f***ing noise,

but I just stuck in there, | because that's all I had.

# ...no lip, child #

# And I mean what I say #

# Don't give me | no lip, child #

# You'll be sorry one day #

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