Malcolm McLaren's funeral was never going to be a sober affair. As the hearse bearing the punk impresario's coffin passed shops selling bondage gear and Sex Pistols T-shirts in north London today, some clapped, most cheered, and one voice which cried "Anarchy!" rose above the rest.
A horse-drawn carriage headed the procession from the deconsecrated St Mary Magdalene church to Highgate cemetery, while McLaren's coffin was spray-painted with the words "Too fast to live, too young to die". It was followed by an overflowing green double-decker bus destined for "Nowhere" and decorated with one of McLaren's favourite sayings: "Cash from chaos."
Determined to see him off in style, members of the 200-strong funeral party hung out of the windows, singing along to Sid Vicious's version of Frank Sinatra's My Way. Among the mourners at a private service was McLaren's former partner Dame Vivienne Westwood, wearing a headband emblazoned with the word "chaos". She urged people to embrace McLaren's creativity and sense of rebellion. "I am very, very sad that, unbelievably, Malcolm is dead," she said, "and I just wanted to say on this cruel, cruel day … get a life, do something with it!"
During a nonreligious service, Sir Bob Geldof and Sex Pistols drummer Paul Cook sang along to McLaren's recording of Max Bygraves' You Need Hands. Joseph Corré, McLaren's son with Westwood, read out a note from Sex Pistols guitarist Steve Jones, who addressed his old adversary directly.
"Dear Malcolm, did you take the money with you? Is it in the coffin? Do you mind if I come back tomorrow and dig you up?" he wrote. "I always had a soft spot for you. You showed me a lot when I was 17 … and I owe you a lot for showing me a different side to life."
David Johansen of the New York Dolls, once managed by McLaren, joined punk poet John Cooper-Clarke and artists Dinos Chapman and Tracy Emin at the funeral, as well as Adam Ant and Primal Scream frontman Bobby Gillespie.
An absent Boy George sent an anarchy symbol arranged in flowers, with a card which read: "To Malcolm, rest in peace."
McLaren's partner, Young Kim, told the assembly that McLaren had been working right up to his death, which had come as a shock.
As his stepson Ben Westwood said before the funeral, McLaren's passing was always going to be a public event. "The whole thing was always public with Malcolm," he said. "He shouldn't have a quiet funeral. He was never a quiet man. That idea of private family grief, he hated all that stuff."
The crowds who lined the streets in Camden had their own tributes. Greg, 52, who had worked on the King's Road at the same time as Malcolm, gestured at the shops lining the streets: "He made all this. Malcolm inspired people to think for themselves."
Music promoter Piers Miller, 40, said: "Malcolm made rock'n'roll feel dangerous again. I don't think we realised how large he loomed until he was gone."
One teenager, with pink hair, Dr Marten boots, a Sex Pistols T-Shirt and attitude to match, said: "He was the godfather, he helped so many underground bands … fair enough he took their money as well, but he did help them."
Stephen Gill, a 39-year-old photographer, said the aspect of the day that may have pleased McLaren the most was the media presence. "There's as many cameras here as punks," he said. "That's a real tribute to Malcolm. He's pulled it off again without even being here."
Although many of the shoppers and shopkeepers buying and selling the punk gear that stemmed from McLaren's ideas had little clue who he was, one aging punk with a shaved head, bull ring through his nose and a few of his own teeth tried to single-handedly keep punk's anarchic heart beating. Asked what he thought of McLaren, he snarled: "You want a quote, you've got to pay," before baring his heavily tattooed backside at members of the assembled press.