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 20 min traffic of this page…

Yes, this is the legendary, heart-breaking story of John Simon Ritchie and Nancy Laura Spungen, or Sid & Nancy. The Jack & Sally before Jack & Sally, the Joker & Harley Quinn with music, the Romeo & Juliet of the punk era: no-one really knows, even now, what really went on between them in The Chelsea Hotel, but speculation and theory rage on . . .

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 while we are caught somewhere between cynicism and romance.

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.”

Their lives and love affair may have been short and somewhat sour, but their legend lives on. 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. Except (in their case) maybe Heroin.

“I’ve only been in love with a beer bottle, and a mirror” – Sid Vicious

 

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