In fair New York is where we lay our scene,
A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life.
Where junkie needles make junkie arms unclean,
And the continuance of the punk-rock age,
Which but their children’s end, nought could remove,
Is now the 20min traffic of this page…
Yes, this is the legendary, heart breaking story of John Simon Ritchie and Nancy Laura Spungen – or Sid & Nancy Vicious. The Jack & Sally before Jack & Sally, the Joker & Harley Quinn with music, Romeo & Juliet of the punk era: no one with any clue of what was really going on between them.
They’re my favourite love story, which I think is reason enough to be referred to a therapist. There was drugs, a stabbing, a suicide and the rest of us lost in the mystery caught between cynicism and romance: you couldn’t get any closer to the timeless play.
Everyone has their own theory as to what happened in that hotel room 36 years ago, but ultimately if you’re not their mothers, a die-hard punk fan, or an autopsy doctor – who cares? They had an unconventional hard and fast love affair that today’s sadistic world can’t condone and (although I’d prefer not to die from it) a little part of me is insanely jealous of.
Of course you get the sceptics, the people trying to take the magic from it…
“Romeo killed Juliet/Sid killed Nancy.”
“They were idiots. I wouldn’t die for anyone.”
“They weren’t really in love. You can’t fall in love that fast.”
I think of you lot as Hitler, only your issue is with the Cupids of the world. If you ran the country you’d create an “I Am Legend”-esque apocalypse.
Sid & Nancy tell me that no matter what utterly ridiculous, messed up situation you’re in, you will find love. And if you find it, there’s nothing better. Not even heroin.
“To mind the bollocks or to not mind the bollocks, that is the question.”
Wrong play, I know.