I had some time to kill before a show I was going to see at the Canal Cafe and so popped into a nice country looking pub nearby for a half a pint of ale. There's something about countryside pubs that makes me want to drink bitter (maybe because this is what I used to drink in Cheddar as a young man - though only after I had gone through a phase of drinking the more pleasant tasting Cinzano and lemonade - what an effeminate 14 year old I must have appeared) and even though I am trying to stay away from beer these days I didn't think half a pint could hurt.
As I took my drink from the bar the door opened and I came face to face with the second influential character from my youth in a week (though maybe not quite as influential as
Mr Mayall. It was
Glen Matlock from off of the Sex Pistols. In 1981 at the Kings of Wessex school nothing was cooler than liking that four year out of date punk band and studying really hard for your o levels. Well amongst me and my immediate friends anyway, though to be honest at the time I mainly went along with their musical tastes for the sake of it and thought that punk was a bit stupid. I preferred the Beatles. A bit like Glen Matlock.
I wrote a play based on all this called
Punk's Not Dead about the first Pistols reformation and a group of grown up school friends going to see them. It's really good. I wish something more had happened with it. I almost thought about writing a sequel catching up with the characters as they go to see the latest Pistols gig. But it would never get put on, so why bother?
So there was Matlock, right in front of me, highlights in his hair. He had been the man the camera had been on when the first fuck got said in the Bill Grundy interview. It is sometimes misappropriated to him. But in fact Steve Jones said all the fucks. If only Matlock had said one then maybe he would have been perceived as a bit cooler and not had to leave the band. But like me, he was never a true punk.
Would I learn from my mistakes and regrets of last week and say hello? No, of course I wouldn't. I just went outside with my drink. As I sat down I thought to myself, "I could have said hello and then told him I had written a play about him - it was the perfect in", but then I remembered that the play was largely about how rubbish he was and how no-one wanted to be him, but wanted to be Johnny Rotten. Even if ultimately the character that I played (who is nothing like me) realised that being Glen Matlock is a cool thing to be and a human thing to be, I think it might have actually been difficult to get this across in a thirty second conversation. I was pleased that I left him to his drink and his friends.
He is the second Pistol I have encountered, the first being
Paul Cook in a hotel in Newcastle in the mid-90s. Just like the character in my play who I am nothing like, I held a door open for him and he said "Thanks very much," which didn't seem a very punk thing to say. I had hoped he would spit in my face. He lives in the Bush according to wikipedia so maybe I shall see him again. Doubtless I won't say anything to him though. I wouldn't want to act out of character.
