Auntie Doris’s They Died Too Young #26 Sid Vicious: Died 2nd February 1979 aged 21.

I wouldn’t normally waste my time writing about such a ruddy waste of space, but my nephew Michael has been going on at me. He used to worship him when he was a teenager, and even now, when he is in his ruddy fifties he still thinks it is clever to use him as an excuse for not tucking his shirt in properly! “Sid Vicious died that we may live!” he says “not so that we have to worry about tucking our shirts in all the time.”

Also, some bloke who reads what I put on WordPress and writes a blog called “the offensive playbook” suggested that I should write about Punk Rock because he “thinks I would like it” or something. Well I don’t! Its too noisy and its not big and its not clever to ruddy well swear all the time. Its cleverer if you can entertain people without being rude. Like George Formby could. And his dad before him.

Any Road Sid Vicious wasn’t even his real name. He was called John Ritchie. And he was in the most famous Punk Rock group of the 1970s, the “Sexy Pissers” or something, that’s what they called themselves. In my opinion they were just trying to be clever, by swearing. Again. They used to sing songs about dead bodies and be sick on stage and Sid even used to cut himself a bit, so that he got blood all over his chest, Silly ruddy idiot.
He was always taking drugs and stuff like that and in the end he found himself a girlfriend who was no better than he was. Most people like him manage to get themselves a girlfriend who acts as a bit of a calming influence, and they settle down and have kiddies, but not Sid. He had to start seeing this Nancy Spongebob, who just made him dafter and got him into taking even worse drugs.
He stopped being in the Sexy Pissers and moved into in a run down hotel in New York with her. He did a few Punk Rock concerts on his own, but he had taken that many drugs that he couldn’t even remember what song he was singing half the time. Then one night he went to bed with Nancy, and when he woke up in the morning, he found her stabbed to death in the ruddy bathroom.
It looked like a clear cut case, and the coppers had him locked up in prison. But of course nothing is ever as it seems. Some folk say that a drug dealer came in and did the stabbing in the middle of the night. That makes sense to me. If my Raymond ever found out that I had forgot to lock the front door before we retired for the night, he always used to say “We might be murdered in our beds!” and if Sid and Nancy were high on drugs, they probably wouldn’t remember to lock their door. Any Road, Sid’s lawyer managed to get him out on bail, and he even got to go back to England.
But once he got home he had a party at his Mam’s house, and the next morning, they found him laid out in bed, dead of a drugs overdose. Some people say it was suicide because he wanted to be back with his Nancy. Very romantic. But to be honest, its not exactly a Barbara Cartland story, is it?
Any road, I hope that our Michael and that Offensive Playbook bloke are satisfied, because I’m not going to be writing about that long haired American youth who shot himself in the face in the greenhouse. Ruddy attention seeker.

Auntie Doris’s Book Club #2: “Frank” by Jon Ronson

This is the true story of Chris Sievey, the ruddy idiot who was better known to millions as Frank Sidebottom, the man/boy, singer/songwriter, comedian/entertainer who wore a great big cardboard head. My nephew Michael thought that he was the bee’s knees. I could take him or leave him. He was a soft so and so in my book.

To be honest, I think it is dangerous for anyone to spend long periods pretending to be someone else for the purposes of entertainment. Or for any other purpose really. I remember that episode of Colditz on the television, where one of the prisoners pretended to have gone barmy so convincingly that he eventually managed to get the Germans to send him home on compassionate grounds. The only thing was, by the time he got home he had become who he was pretended to be and had gone properly barmy. I know it was only on the television, but apparently it was based on a true story.
And what about that David Bowie when he pretended to be Ziggy Stardust eh? Aye, I know all about that. Sent him proper doollalley it did. And that Sid Vicious out of the Sexy Pistols. He ended up murdering his girlfriend on account of the fact that he couldn’t stop pretending that he was a wicked beggar who didn’t know any better. The world of showbusiness is littered with such tragic stories. Jimmy Clitheroe, the Krankies, Bungle, Zippy and George, John Shuttleworth, Ken Barlow. All of that lot went stark staring mad after a bit. Which just goes to show… You shouldn’t dabble with forces thad you don’t understand.
Look at our Michael, convinced that he is possessed by the spirit of a long dead aunt. Wearing her tights an’all and going around talking in a silly voice. There’s only one place he’s headed. The ruddy funny farm!
Any road, this “Frank” book, it’s not very long, but it’s a good read. And they are bringing a film out about it too. So one way or the other you will be able to decide for yourself whether he was a barm-pot or a genius. Or both.
Or neither I suppose.
There are some good anecdotes in the book, which you will probably laugh at. They tickled me. And there are also some nice pictures of Frank and some of his friends. The best thing is, that off you have one of these kindles what nots you can have it for 59 pence. Which is good value seeing as how they reckon that they are flogging the paperback for £7.99, which is obviously a rip off. I haven’t actually seen a paperback one, but they must be ruddy thin. Either that or they have ruddy big writing in them.
I would certainly buy a kindles copy if I was still alive. But then again, maybe not, as I have already read it. Our Michael bought me it. I would let you borrow mine, but it’s stuck in the internet somewhere and I don’t know how to get it to you. Anyway, it’s only fifty odd pence so you ruddy well ought to get your own.
You know you should.
You really should.
Ohh yes!