The Daily Mirror
April 1994

Anti-Christ (retired) in a pinstripe

He was the self-proclaimed anti-Christ who promised no future, the whining punk rock voice of the so-called Blank Generation.

As the front man for the Sex Pistols, Johnny Rotten terrorized the Establishment for two years in the late Seventies before snarling off into the sunset.

God Save The Queen, Pretty Vacant and Anarchy In The UK were pop anthems which led to street riots, questions in the House and endless banner headlines.

When Rotten quit midway through a chaotic US tour, he left behind an everyday pop story of drugs, booze, death and recriminations. 'Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?' was his parting shot after the band's last disastrous concert in 1978. Sixteen years on and Mr Rotten, alias John Lydon, is nursing a huge hangover but has lost none of his venom.

He is now 37 and still skinny, although a baggy pin-striped suit has replaced the ripped jeans and safety pins.

'Jesus, I'm fucked,' is his Rotten-esque greeting.

He is determined to show age has not mellowed him: 'I'm just a thoroughly horrible person. That's just the way it is - it's in my nature,' he says with pride. 'I don't care if people dislike me but I would expect respect. I'm bloody awkward - I don't do things in the normal way.'

He is a past master in the art of shocking, so it is no surprise that his new book is entitled Rotten: No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs.

What is surprising is that the man who still rails against royalty, rock 'dinosaurs' and society in general has done anything so Establishment as writing a book, which he is obliged to promote. Perhaps aware of this irony, he is quick to justify himself.

'There has been such utter rubbish written,' he explains. 'I got sick of being reading who I am and who I'm not. It's just an image and was never meant to be taken seriously. It was a front - or rather an affront. I'm older but haven't grown up. I feel about the same as I did when I was 16 - confused, irritated and irresponsible.'

In the book, the North-London-born hustler tells of his teenage adventures, including a spell as a playgroup leader. But more importantly, he reveals the real deal with the Sex Pistols.

'There was no master plan,' he says. 'We were all very stupid which probably helped us. We were just a novelty. Only English people can come up with something like the Sex Pistols. It's wonderful to be ridiculous but I wouldn't do it again. I wouldn't repeat anything - apart from breakfast.'

Rotten's loud-mouthed sneering combined with manager Malcolm McLaren's media-wise manipulations caused a sensation. EMI Records signed them for £50,000, then dropped them when other pop bands on the label expressed disapproval. A&M forked out £75,000 before axing them after a week when Rotten and Co ran riot in the company offices, vomiting in rubber plants and molesting secretaries. Meanwhile thrill-seeking society nobs invited the band to parties. Once they gate-crashed a bash hosted by runaway MP John Stonehouse.

'I saw him standing in the corner of a room, smoking a joint and asking where the cocaine was,' says Lydon.

He claims pop aristocrats like Mike Jagger and Paul McCartney - the very people he despised - attempted to gain access to the Sex Pistols' court.

'The McCartneys would invite me to their place but I didn't go. One day I was driving past Harrods in a cab and they came out, saw us and they ran after the car. I locked the door.'

To Lydon, Cliff Richard is 'a joke', Elton John is 'a fat buffoon' and David Bowie 'a pompous prat'.

'They all want to get invites to the Queen's tea party - they're social climbers and arseholes'.