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Who Killed Bambi

I had no idea this was ever a thing, but the world is poorer for the fact that it never happened: A movie starring the Sex Pistols, directed by Russ Meyer, co-written by Roger Ebert.

For dinner, I suggested Beauchamp Place, then not as trendy as now, a street not far from Harrods’s that was chockablock with restaurants. In the black cab [Russ] Meyer informed [Johnny] Rotten: “You look like you haven’t eaten in a week.”

“That fucker [Malcolm] McLaren doesn’t pay us anything. He gives us an allowance of five quid a week. I’m living in a dosshouse.”

... Meyer opened up by informing Johnny Rotten that with his stovepipe arms he wouldn’t have survived one day in the army.

“What do I want with the fucking army?” Rotten said.

“You listen to me, you little shit. We won the Battle of Britain for you!”

I reflected that America had not been involved in the Battle of Britain, and that John Lydon (his real name) was Irish, and therefore from a non-participant nation. I kept these details to myself.

After dinner, we drove Johnny in a cab to where he lived, in an anonymous street in Notting Hill. “Fucking McLaren,” he said. “That was the first decent meal I’ve had in a month.” Meyer gave him five pounds and we waited outside a convenience store for him to buy lager and canned pork and beans. “Fucking great,” Johnny said.

Roger Ebert: McLaren & Meyer & Rotten & Vicious & me

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