When I first met Johnny "O great one" Lydon it gave me a just a teensy weensy hint as to what the guy was like. I had gone to the Manor studios with Martin Atkins where Pil were recording "Flowers of Romance". The studio was built in a typical old English country manor house set in sprawling Oxfordshire grounds, a fine setting for the making of many a Virgin album. The house itself was large, and the studio took up just part of the complex, the rest of the facilities were there to provide a welcome distraction to the incarcerate star protégés. Snooker room, video room, lounge, kitchen etc. all there to help the aspiring hordes spend more of the record company advance, and so increase the profits. We listened to a tape of  Lydon wailing along to a Beatles  record. Tthe original vocals had been removed and Johns fingernails on chalkboard screeching sounded better by far. If only this could have been released! After this, Martin took me to meet John plus entourage in one of the sumptuous sitting rooms, and  I reclined into one of the softly furnished settees. The room was tastefully decorated to match the opulent buildings with thick  upholstery and deep carpets overlaid with luxurious Persian style rugs. Johnny was perched menacingly on the edge of another sofa like some  living gargoyle, his aura emanating all around. As Martin introduced me to the great one, John was as usual, picking the grunge off his teeth,inspecting it, and wiping it on the furniture. "Alright?" I offered as a casual greeting, and John forced a similar reply in his pseudo cockney accent. He then loudly called up a huge lump of snot, deep from the back of his throat and spat it in to the middle of the rug with a loud
     exclamation. He had made his mark, in much the same way a dog would  piss at the edge of his territory, and I think I was supposed to be  impressed...... I wasn't.
      That was how John carried his image around. Brash, loud, up front and filthy f***ing rotten.

Return to Menu