Semi-detached suburban Sex Pistol

John Lydon is staging his own Golden Jubilee celebration

Like one of his own scratched records, Johnny Rotten took to the podium to play the same old tune yesterday.
But the former lead singer of the  Sex Pistols struggled to recreate the 'golden years' as he came out of semi-retirement.
Rotten, who now goes under his real name John Lydon, informed a bemused press pack that he and the other three surviving members of the band were reforming for the Queen's Golden Jubilee.
But the once wide-eyed face of punk - and a man credited with changing musical history - came across as a spent force as he launched into a foul-mouthed tirade littered with smutty innuendo.
In a plea to fans to support their one-off gig, he boomed: 'I'm here to tell you, July 27 we are going to be playing in Crystal Palace Sports Centre - £32.50, hardly breaking the ******* bank is it?'
The band also plan to re-release the controversial hit God Save The Queen on May 27, exactly 25 years after its initial release and just a few days before Jubilee Day, June 3.
The anti-monarchist record was deemed so subversive the first time round that the number one slot was left blank in the week it sold most copies.
But Lydon, once the scourge of the establishment, no longer carries quite the same amount of terror and revulsion he instilled in his 1977 heyday.
The gaunt, contorted features of his youth have filled out over the years, and he now boasts a paunch of the contented. And indeed he has much to be contented about.
The son of a lorry driver from Finsbury Park, North London, he now lives in Los Angeles and while in the capital is staying in the Grosvenor Park Hotel, where suites start at £500 a night.
Asked if he was enjoying middle age, the 46-year-old replied: 'Yes, I am as it happens. I'm doing it well, you see. I'm not Pete Townshend - I never said I would die before I get old. I intend to go on and on and on and on, because I am not aware of anything after life.'
At home in Los Angeles, the man who once bragged of being the anti-Christ has settled into the humdrum routine of middle age.
An avid Arsenal fan, he is happily married to his German wife Nora, 60, whom he met in the punk days.
When asked recently what car they drive, his reply could not have been more conventional: 'A Volvo. Solid, sensible. It snows a lot where we go skiing, so it makes sense.'
Though his hair colour is still not natural, he tends not to bother spiking it up when he nips to the local Ralph's supermarket in his shorts and Timberland loafers.