Not the Ace of Bass but the punks punk. Malcolm MacLarens enfant terrible Sid Vicious seen here with his leather jacket and lip turned scowl hoofing along a London street seemingly atop a Honda.

Well here’s how it’s done! A strapped down Moto on a flatbed trailer… Well how else can a brazen youth barely out of his teenage angst bare his skinny pale chest and sip his beer.

As the story unfolded his spirally punk lifestyle caught up with him in a New York gaff. Nancy Spungen found an untimely demise with a single stab wound and Sid ended up on Riker’s Island. Out on bail in early ’77 he was found dead of a heroin overdose a few days later.

His final written words were apparently: “Bury me in my leather jacket, jeans and motorcycle boots. Goodbye.”

I wonder… “My Way” indeed.