—"Everyone can suck my fat balls!"

Yeah, that was you—you didn't give a shit about swearing on live TV, you didn't give a shit about rumors or how rude you looked. Your image wasn't what it used to be, neither was your attitude and your mentality had changed. You had your own music career and you were happy with your fucking band. What the fuck was the point of intimate and sexual questions about your fucking tits? Who cared if you wore a bra or not? Usually people get so used to having those questions asked to a female artist who was once a figure of innocence and sweetness. That was you once in your life. The perfect girl for children's movies. But you weren't that anymore and you showed your discontent, fighting with the interviewer. Johnny Rotten himself had seen that show that day, on a terrible TV, of course. Anyway, you saw it anyway and you just felt a little admiration for such an empowered figure. Johnny was a person who wasn't a fan of many artists, much less of Rock, but maybe he could have a small exception.

It wasn't anything new that you were invited to events. You only accepted what could give more visibility to your band, you used the same technique as the 'Sex Pistols', you didn't sell out for anything. At this particular event, there were quite a few Punk and Rock bands, you liked that a little. Maybe you could meet people who had a similar thought to yours... Or at least something like that you were able to confirm by being able to talk a little with the vocalist of 'Sex Pistols', Johnny Rotten. You had liked him quickly. Of course you didn't know that Johnny was a bit of a fan of yours—but it didn't take long for him to show it. He seemed focused on what you were saying.

—"Yes, you understand... I mean, honey, I know what you're saying. I have the whole bloody UK against me."

The boy joked... It made you laugh a little, you had to admit. After all, he was a boy with some charisma.