
Loading summary
Jake Brennan
Double Elvis. So I try to stay disciplined with work and I try to do my creative task, mainly the writing of the podcast in the morning hours. But you can't always control when inspiration is going to hit. So last night I'm up until about midnight researching and then I start writing, which I didn't want to do, but I had to go with it. I'm in the flow. I stay up way later than I want to. I still gotta get up early in the morning and I'm bone tired. Coffee isn't helping. So thankfully I've got my stash of five Hour Energy and they've got this new confetti craze flavor that I love. It's fantastic. Tastes great. Tastes like a party in a bottle. Which when you're dragging in the morning, believe me, is much needed. Fantastic flavor with this new five Hour Energy Confetti. Great. It's just vanilla y buttery. That's my jam right there. One of the things I also like about five Hour Energy, the bottles. As you probably know, they're tiny and resealable. I can take em anywhere I want. So if I'm gonna hit a wall later in the day, I'm prepared. I just tap into my five Hour Energy stash and I am good to go. Wherever I go. This is a little party in a bottle. It's gonna pump you up. It's gonna get you rolling into your day, whether it's the morning, whether it's the afternoon, whether it's nighttime. Five hour energy confetti is available online. Head to www.5h.com or Amazon to order yours today. You guys feel that that's the summer. It's starting to fade away. It's the fall creeping in with those cooler temps and quints. My go to brand for great fitting, great looking quality clothing. They got me covered with fall staples that are going to freshen up my wardrobe. I'm rocking the European linen chore jacket right now. It's lightweight enough to layer over a flannel, but heavy enough to keep you warm if you're just wearing a T shirt under it. And it looks awesome. The color is cool. It's this martini olive color and you know who doesn't like olives or martinis? Also, I bragged about Quince's Mongolian cashmere crew neck sweater before for a reason because it looks awesome and it's super comfortable. I've already got one in heather gray, but I'm going to nab the black one from Quince very shortly. Perfect for the fall. Quince is my go to guys. I've been talking about them for months now. They're my go to for durable classic clothing without the elevated price tag. What makes quints different? Well they partner directly with ethical factories and skip the middlemen so you get top tier fabrics and great craftsmanship at half the price of similar brands. So if you want to look like one of those icons we feature here in Disgraceland and not spend a fortune doing so, then keep it classic and cool this fall with long lasting staples from quints. Go to quints.com Disgraceland for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's Q-U-I-N-C-E.com Disgraceland free shipping and 365 day returns. Quints.com Disgraceland Disgraceland is a production of Double Elvis the stories about the Rolling Stones swinging London days are insane. They drank and drugged with royals hung with east end gangsters. In 1967 both Mick Jagger and Keith Richards wound up in jail. Keith a one year sentence and Mick with three months. Prior to that, the Rolling Stones jockeyed their way up the charts with the Beatles contrast as dangerous drug addled sex crazed black hats to Her Majesty's sanctioned lovable mop tops. In the mid-60s, the Rolling Stones disrupted London's established social order with their music, their attitude and their vast influence as pop stars. They attracted into their orbit not only fellow bohemians and artists but but well heeled aristocrats and socialites. The appeal of the Rolling Stones was so powerful that it went both ways, drawing in not only British youth accustomed to worshiping pop stars, but also society's upper crust. To the establishment this was highly disruptive, threatening even. The Rolling Stones made powerful enemies. Crooked headline seeking police sergeants, Scotland Yard, the press, American acid kings and disgruntled chauffeurs. And through it all, they also made great music. Throughout their career of more than 50 years and counting, the Rolling Stones have made some of the greatest music ever and most of it almost never happened. Unlike the music at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my melotron called Double O. No he didn't. MK2. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to I'm a Believer by the Monkees. And why would I play you that specific slice of unbelievable made for TV cheese? Could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on February 11, 1967. And that was the day the police raided Keith Richards Redmond's home, setting off a series of events that threatened to destroy the ascendant careers of London's most dangerous band. On this special two part episode, Drugged Out Royals, East End Gangsters, Crooked Cops Swinging London in the Rolling Stones. I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgrace. The prisoner peered out of the D block corridor window. It was a long way down, a 20 foot drop. If he fell, his ankles could handle it. They'd handled worse. Korea before that. Germany's invasion of Amsterdam during the Second World War. That was cute. He and his Dutch cousins showed up at the border on their bicycles to confront the invading Germans. The Germans showed mercy and a sense of humor. Rather than killing them on sight, the Dutch were thoroughly outmanned and outgunned. The Germans took some as prisoners of war, let others go and tracked their moves to learn more about the Dutch resistance. And they of course confiscated their bicycles, melted them down and then used the bike materials to make new bombs which they later used to bomb Rotterdam with with sick bastards. Hitler's men. That was where he started to turn toward communism. His cousin the Marxist made a lot of sense. Hitler, the Allies. Two sides of the same imperialist coin. The seeds were planted in Amsterdam during World War II and they fully bloomed during the Korean conflict. By then the prisoner was an MI6 officer stationed in search. The Korean People's army invaded the south, took him prisoner, locked him up and gave him all the time he needed to finish up those Karl Marx readings. Soon the KGB flipped him and put him to work. The spy on the West. It was a fine arrangement until the Polish defector ratted him out to British authorities. The judge gave him 42 years in prison. Wormwood Scrubs with its notorious rodent infestation in hard timers. The prisoner thought about his past, how he got here, while contemplating his present, mainly his ankles. Amsterdam, Korea. Those imprisonments were nothing compared to this. 42 years. He wasn't gonna die in the shithole, he was gonna bust out 20ft, that's how far down it was. If he were to slip while scaling down the side of the prison second story, his ankles would need to withstand the impact because after getting down the side of the prison to the yard, there was a sprint to the the wall. His heart raced. The hum of prisoners enjoying their daily allotted free time filled the walls of the old jail while the soundtrack from that night's picture show bled out of the common room. Screws barked, inmates grabassed. No more thinking. 5, 30. Free time on the block. Time to act now. He bashed his elbow through the prison corridor window, coughing loudly at the exact same time, to obscure the sound of breaking glass. He pushed out the remaining glass from the window frame, hoisted himself up and squeezed himself headfirst out onto the concrete lip of the exterior wall. There he collected himself and slid down the top half of the wall before falling the remaining 10 or so feet to the ground. Landing unscathed, ankles intact, he sprung to his feet and sprinted the 50 or so yards to the prison wall. It was the longest run of his life. It was quiet out in the yard. No guards barking, no prisoners boasting. Just the sound of his heart racing in his own labored breath, struggling to meet the demands of his exploding lungs. He was closing in on the wall. It was coming up fast. If his man on the outside was worth half a yard bird, the rope ladder would be hung ready for his ascent. And if it wasn't, then he'd be caught. But alas, there it was, hanging right where it was supposed to, smack dab in the middle of the wall. The prisoner grabbed it and quickly scurried to the top, another 20ft up. But when he reached the top, he found that there was no way down. No rope ladder on the reverse side. He wasted no time and leapt to his freedom, landing again with his ankles intact, but instead spraining his wrist, he tore off into the night. It was never again seen by British authorities. He was a legend. George Blake, the escaped spy. Everyone in London knew his story, especially the prisoners in Wormwood Scrubs, the prison he'd escaped from less than a year prior. A repeat offender noticed the first time prisoner to his right, marveling at the wall in the yard. He nudged him. It's possible he you know. Huh? The newbie asked. The old pro nodded at the wall. Blake got over it. That was nine months prior. And this was the newbie prisoner's first day. Her Majesty's Prison Service. Inmate number 12126664 Richards. First name Keith. Date of 12 1843. Convicted on charges of of drug possession. Sentence 12 months. Occupation musician Keith Richards. First day of his one year prison sentence was typical. Stripped, searched, showered and sprayed down with permethrin to kill whatever lice the dirty rock and roller might have been smuggling in. Then an issuing of his inmate clothes. One sheet, one blanket and one pillow for one tiny rat infested cell. Mercifully, soon after, a trip to the yard to cool his jets with the other novices, where he stood staring at the prison wall. Visions of George Blake Making his great escape. And now the filthy traitor, the spy was living free somewhere off in Russia. While Keith Richards, the filthy musician the Rolling Stone deemed too much of a threat, too much of a disruptive corruptive force by the British establishment, was locked up for a year with assorted bunch of hard characters. Not that Keith wasn't used to the Hard boys. He was after all, tight with Spanish Tony. And Spanish Tony, it was believed at least by Keith, was tied up somehow with the Cray twins. Keith heard the rumors about the Cray twins, Ronnie and Reggie, notorious crime lords from the East End. By the time the early 60s came around they controlled most of London through a hard mix of murder, armed robbery, the protection rackets and of course loan sharking and gambling establishments. London's establishment thought they were doing themselves a favor by legalizing gambling casinos in 1960. Cut down on arrests, jammed up court dockets, overcrowded prisons, that sort of thing. But the new casinos only brought more power to organize criminals like like Ronnie and Reggie Cray. And the excitement of the casinos with their rampant vice, the glamour of their gangsters and working girls began to attract the smart set musicians, famous photographers, artists and aristos. And with bold faced names partaking in gambling, drinking and who knows what else. Greater London followed suit, taking its cue from its famous. At the exact same time, the early 60s when Britain found itself hungry to cast off the stage, societal restrictions of post war austerity attitudes were changing dramatically. Art was becoming more innovative and fashion more far out. And rock and roll was taking the nation by storm. The Beatles, the Rolling Stones and any and all rock and roll adjacent artists, Andy Warhol, Salvador Dali, the photographer David Bailey, painter Lucian Freud, grandson of Sigmund and film consultant David Litby. Among them were part of a new movement, a new generation that openly challenged the UK establishment's conservative way of life. The disruption to polite society was unlike anything London had ever seen. If the bourgeoisie, Lord Effingham and others among them were happily seen cavorting with known rabble rousers and scruffy bohemians at gambling establishments owned and operated by known gangsters like the Kray twins, then what exactly in the name of Her Majesty was the country coming to? The Krays weren't to be crossed. Spanish Tony told Keith all about David Litvinov. It was at Esmeralda's Barn, one of the Krays casinos. Litvinov got with a croupier in one of the back rooms, a croupier that Ron Krey, who like David Litvinov was gay, happened to be having an affair with. When Kray found out he was being two timed, the gangster's vengeance was swift. Two heavies held David Litanov down. His screams were useless even if they were heard. There was no one brave enough outside the casino's backroom doors to do anything about it. The razor blade pierced the skin just below Litvinov's right ear. Slowly, Ron Kray pressed it through the flesh and drew it down the neck in the shape of a U, stopping briefly at the atoms apple, careful not to penetrate too far, while angling the pole of the razor back up the left side of Lenov's neck toward his left ear. The scream ceased. It was shock. David Litvinov was still alive but properly maimed. Cray's point made. He nodded to his heavies. They knew what to do. They grabbed the blooded Litanov, stripped him naked, bound his arms and ankles with heavy rope, and hung him outside of the second story window, 20ft above the sidewalk for all to see swinging. Just like the rest of London in the early 60s. Keith Richards remembered those days. The early days when things first started to turn. The squares, the establishment, the authorities. They knew little, and they were too busy trying to quell violent East End gangsters to concern themselves with scruffy art school dropouts who fancied black music and drugs were so new onto the scene that the coppers were oblivious. They had no clue. Keith remembered walking down Oxford street with a brick of hash the size of a small acoustic guitar under his arm, right there, out in the open. And that was back in 65. My, how things had changed.
Lemonade Pet Insurance Announcer
Just got a new puppy or kitten. Congrats. But also, yikes. Between crates, beds, toys, treats, and those first few vet visits, you've probably already dropped a small fortune. Which is where Lemonade Pet Insurance comes in. It helps cover vet costs so you can focus on what's best for your new pet. The coverage is customizable, sign up is quick and easy, and your claims are handled in as little as three seconds. Lemonade offers a package specifically for puppies and kittens. Get a'llemonade.com pet your future self will thank you. Your pet won't. They don't know what insurance is.
Erin Moriarty
In 2013, two brutal murders left the city of Davis, California, paralyzed in fear.
Jake Brennan
The victims were an elderly couple. It was up close and personal.
Erin Moriarty
I'm 48 Hours correspondent Erin Moriarty. I thought I had seen it all until I encountered the mastermind behind those murders.
Jake Brennan
He's, I think, the word is psychotic.
Erin Moriarty
This is 15 Inside the Daniel Marsh Murders. Follow and listen to 15 Inside the Daniel Marsh Murders on the Free Odyssey app or wherever you get your podcasts.
AG1 AGZ Announcer
Tonight. Turn down the noise of the day and focus on the rest with agz, the nightly drink for winding down and resting up. New from AG1, AGZ supports your body's natural sleep cycle with clinically studied key herbs, adaptogens and minerals in amounts supported by research. And no melatonin helping you wake feeling rested, wind down, rest up with Agz. Learn more@drinkagz.com by the time 1966 rolled.
Jake Brennan
Around, the Beatles were untouchable, the biggest stars on the planet. Old guard London bit their tongues, held their snickers, swallowed their well established pride and celebrated the Fab Four as their greatest export since, well, capitalism. All four Beatles, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr had recently been awarded membership in the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, the British equivalent of the U.S. presidential Medal of Freedom. This stirred great controversy among staunch Tories and Labor men in Her Majesty's government. But the Beatles were special, and they now had the medals to prove it. And they were introduced to the Queen as nice boys, even if they did have to sneak away to the loo to calm their own nerves with a jazz cigarette beforehand. No matter, the Fab Four were now cultural ambassadors, so it was in the establishment's best interest to keep the Beatles out of the papers. They were, after all, now part of the establishment themselves. And on the other hand, you had the Rolling Stones, who were cast by their manager Andrew Lube Oldham, as the complete opposite of the Beatles. Dirty, dangerous, not to be left alone with your daughters. The Beatles were pop. The parts of their musical lineage that connected to Willie Dixon and Motown were ignored by the tea and crumpets crowd. Lennon and McCartney were cute, albeit a little rough around their Liverpool edges, but steeped in the tradition of Tin Can Alley and therefore allowed with a wink and a nod into the club. Whereas the Rolling Stones by comparison were black AF from Down the Road, a piece singing about pork and beans, they masked none of their black American blues influence jumped up Chuck Berrywick's laid back Jimmy Reed riffs, Bobby Womack's Last Time, Irma Thomas Time Is on My side and Howlin Wolf's version of Willie Dixon's Little Red Rooster in Old Blues, A Song About a Fucking Chicken at number one on the charts in November of 1964. White kids, artsy students, English kids with scruffy hair, bad skin and skin tight trousers singing About a uniquely black American experience and sitting at the top of the English charts and increasingly rubbing shoulders with people from the top of England's social class. Not at Her Majesty's request like the Beatles, but at social gatherings and in clubs owned by the notorious Cray Twins. It was completely novel and it made no sense. Who the hell were these guys? This wasn't the way things were supposed to happen. It was totally disruptive to the accepted way of how things were supposed to work. From the perspective of the establishment. The Beatles were one thing, okay, but two groups of longhairs at the top of the charts competing for attention of young English girls and influencing young English boys? The establishment was just sick of it, tired of it, fed up with it. Especially when one of those groups was clearly unacceptable by any sense of established societal norms and no doubt dangerous. Would you let your daughter marry a rolling Stone? This was the question being posed by lazy British journalists, being spoon fed by Stone's manager Andrew Lou Goldham, who was eager to draw a contrast between his group and the Beatles. The press of course did as was expected. The establishment clutched their pearls, guffawed and longed for the days of chastity belts, crusades and all. The Rolling Stones played the part. Oldham and the press cast them in and once they took to writing their own hits, their singer Mick Jagger's lyrics went dark. Play with Fire, I Can't get no Satisfaction, Heart of Stone and Painted Black took the deep rooted darkness of the blues and added a layer of anti establishment cynicism to the band's fast evolving modern production. Fuzzy sitars and an ever growing blend of Keith Richards deadly guitar riffs that went far beyond Willie Dixon, Jimmy Reed and Messrs Lennon and McCartney. The blending of guitars and the Stones production technique was born out of necessity. Heath came upon it by accident in an effort to compensate for his so called bandleader Brian Jones. Derelict of duty, Brian Jones had let fame go go to his head. He was consumed by drugs, increasingly LSD and alcohol and to his bandmates had become an insufferable, not to mention unreliable. Brian bagged out of gigs and Keith had to figure out how to play Brian's parts on top of his own parts. Brian bagged out of recording sessions or was content to mess around on the Marimbas or whatever the and Keith was tasked with coming up with complimentary guitar parts to his own and then mixing them together into a seamless and consistent clap of guitar thunder. A mix that would prove irresistible to teenage record buyers in May of 1965. I can't get no satisfaction went to number one on the back of Keith's vicious guitar playing, no thanks to Brian Jones, who was busy fucking off with whoever would give him the requisite amount of craven rock star attention. And that someone was an enterprising undercover journalist from the notorious British tabloid the News of the World.
FXX and Hulu Announcer
We'll be right back after this. Word, word, word.
WhatsApp Announcer
When did making plans get this complicated? It's time to streamline with WhatsApp, the secure messaging app that brings the whole group together, use polls to settle dinner plans, send event invites and pin messages so no one forgets mom's 60th and never miss a meme or milestone. All protected with end to end encryption. It's time for WhatsApp message privately with everyone. Learn more at WhatsApp.com Only Murders in.
Liberty Mutual Announcer
The Building Season 5 the hit Hulu Original is back.
Jake Brennan
The night Buster died, he was talking with this mobster. Was he killed in a hit?
Liberty Mutual Announcer
We need to go face to face.
Jake Brennan
Face with the mob.
Liberty Mutual Announcer
Get ready for a season.
Jake Brennan
This is how I die.
Liberty Mutual Announcer
You can't refuse.
Jake Brennan
You're gonna save the day like you always do by being smart, sharp and almost always by mistake.
Liberty Mutual Announcer
The Hulu Original Series Only Murders in The Building premieres September 9, streaming on Hulu and Hulu on Disney for bundle subscribers Term supply New episodes Tuesdays.
FXX and Hulu Announcer
This episode is brought to you by FXX and Hulu. Futurama returns on September 15, blending heartfelt moments with razor sharp humor while accidentally saving the day. The Planet Express crew is back, defying gravity and common sense. From the creator of The Simpsons comes 10 new episodes where the romance is hotter, the threats are bigger and the action hits harder. Don't miss the all new season of Futurama returning September 15th at 8pm Watch it on FXX or stream it on Hulu.
Jake Brennan
June 11, 1966 1:30am UK pop star Donovan is stoned, lying back in his Edgeware Road flat, ignoring his guests, basking in the beauty of a boy Called Donovan. The myth making documentary about none other than his own beautiful bohemian Brit self, complete with all the requisite bullshit of the time, hip drugs and hip explorations on the concept of being modern. And oh yeah, some music. The Sonny Goudge street track about hash, of course. So hip. There's a knock on the door at this hour. Gypsy Dave isn't concerned. Life's a party, right? What even are clocks anyway? Time is a construct foisted upon those of us in the know by the establishment as a means to keep us constrained to the past and worried about the future. The present man, the moment, no matter when it is, is all that matters. Don't you know that? Oh yeah. The door. There's a semi hip looking chick through the peephole. Gypsy Dave opens it, of course. And behind the women come nine police officers from out of nowhere rushing into the apartment, busting up Donovan's hippie hamlet. They are led by Head Nobby himself, Norman Pilcher, police sergeant, scourge of swinging Londoners everywhere, Pilcher and his boys locate the Donovan's hash and place him, his girlfriend and Gypsy Dave under arrest. Then, celebrity slut that he is, Pilcher asks his prized scalp Donovan for his autograph. Paul McCartney and George Harrison pitch in to help Donovan hire a barrister to fight the case. Sergeant Pilcher confirms what he's long suspected. Drugs are his way in. Drugs are the hammer he can use to nail the the disruptive anti establishment threat posed by influential musicians corrupting Britain's youth. He leaks the details of the Donovan raid to the News of the World and they run with it. The nation is enthralled by the details. A symbiotic relationship between the tabloid and the police is formed. The headlines draw attention. Drum up support for Pilcher's cause. Give him himself a little bit of celebrity and why shouldn't he enjoy it? And the raids and the arrests give the tabloid the salacious content it needs to sell newspapers. And the bigger the Star the better. So the interest in the Rolling Stones from Sergeant Pilcher and the News of the World made sense for both self interested parties. Where's Brian? Keith, have you seen Brian? No, I haven't seen the prick in some time. What about you Charlie? Have you seen him? Charlie Watts said nothing. He just sat in the backseat of Brian Jones's Rolls Royce, suppressing a smile. Brian sat in the driver's seat. He couldn't see Charlie behind him. He couldn't see much ahead of him either. Above the steering wheel the car was so huge. Brian was not happy. He'd been enduring this joke since the beginning days of the band. Mick didn't care. He sat next to him and kept at it. Keith, where is Brian? I can't see him. Is he. Is he back there? Keith smiled, knowing full well that Mick's comments were lighting Brian up with anger. Nah, Mick, haven't seen him. He's a hard one to spot. So little and all. That was the long running joke. That Brian Jones was so short that even when he was standing or sitting amongst his bandmates, that his diminutive stature made him so hard to see that Mick, Keith and Brian's other bandmates were forced to repeatedly look for him, to ask each other had the others seen him? It was vicious, cruel and justified. By 1967, Brian Jones was fast becoming a one man wrecking ball of narcissistic rock star bullshit and threatening to bring down the band he founded, the Rolling Stones, with his drugged out Napoleonic complex. Mick and Keith's words stung. Brian was silent, pissed. Mick didn't care. The little shit had it coming because Brian gave that fucking interview to the News of the World, the one that started the whole mess with the police, the one that resulted in strange cars following Mick and Keith around, and stranger still, the clicks on the telephone lines whenever they'd ring each other up. And of course Brian's little shit interview kicked off the whole mess at Redlands. The News of the World journalists sucked Brian in, massaged his ego like an East End working girl for one of the crazed casinos, and Brian jumped all over it like the desperate little fame John he was admitting to, taking LSD for the first time on the Stones tour of America with Bo Diddley. So hip. The interview played nice within the News of the World's regular editorial context that exploited the hard schism between the establishment and the dangerous druggie musicians and artists from swinging London storming the gates of polite society. And it flew off newspaper stands totally salacious and totally true, except for one major the interview attributed Bryan's quotes about illegal drug use to Mick Jagger, which of course made matters for the Rolling Stones even worse, because by 1967 Mick was firmly established as the group's frontman and was thus the bigger name than Brian. And as such, a bigger shitshow ensued. The interview ran as part of a three part series entitled Pop Star the Truth that Will Shock you. The series not only covered Mick Jagger as Brian Jones and his illegal LSD use, but it also detailed the drug habits, hard partying and corruptive ways of other artists like the who, the Moody Blues, Cream's Ginger Baker and of course Donovan, with unknown details from the night of his arrest that could only have been supplied by Head Knob himself, sergeant Norman Pilcher. The battle lines were cemented and with Pilcher and corrupt members of the press heading up the fight for the establishment, a full fledged war with the likes of the disruptive Rolling Stones was about to ensue. John Paul Getty Jr. Son to one of the richest men in the world at the time, John Paul Getty Sr. Was distracted. His wife Talitha Pole was attracting all kinds of attention at the party, which he'd supposed would be the case. She did wear the dress, the one he dreaded, the see through one. And as if that weren't enough, Talitha wasn't wearing any underwear. So modern. Mick Jagger was impressed. So was his girlfriend, Marianne Faithful. Though mildly annoyed at the amount of attention Mick was paying to John Paul's wife. Marianne was becoming a bit paranoid. The LSD was kicking in. Allen Ginsberg was not interested. He was sitting on the floor in the corner, bullshitting on an old concertina and being largely ignored, even though the party was being thrown in his honor. It was hosted by a swinging London's hippest antiques dealer and style guru, noted wildman Christopher Gibbs. Educated at Eton, Gibbs was the Rolling Stones gateway into the upper class. Mick Jagger was quoted as saying he looked upon Christopher Gibbs to learn how to become a gentleman. And Gibbs, noted bibliophile and sophisticate that he was, was not above the subterranean adolescent antics of the growing drug culture. He sponsored wild LSD fuel trips to Stonehenge with Mick, Keith, Marianne and Princess Margaret. And Keith chauffeured Bentley. He'd spin off with the Stones and other Aristos on a moment's notice to Harrison Shear to drop tabs and chase flying saucers. Gibbs was a serious chap who loved his drugs and who knew how to handle them. He also knew how to share them. At the party for Allen Ginsberg, Gibbs Butler served guests a batch of hash brownies on a silver her tray. Princess Margaret indulged and quickly freaked the fuck out. The hash in its over concentrated edible form knocked her sideways. She wound up in the emergency room, supposedly from quote unquote food poisoning. Perhaps Margaret felt the pull of peer pressure. She wasn't the only one. Brian Jones most certainly felt pressured when it came to taking lsd. He and Keith first dropped acid on a west coast tour of America. They were turned on by Ken Kesey's freaks the day after the second of Kesey's famed acid tests. The way Brian saw it, he had an image to uphold. Head of the head, self proclaimed leader of the Rolling Stones, far out multi instrumentalist capable of ripping wicked Elmore James slide riffs in one moment and previously unimagined sitar pop structures in another. Which of course was all true. But how much of that was due to Brian's LSD usage versus his own innate genius is up for debate. Regardless, the price of admission was costly because when Brian was on acid, which was often, he was an even looser cannon than when he was on the sauce. His moods calibrated by imaginary snakes slithering on the sidewalks beneath his Marrakesh moccasins, undiscovered colors rainbowing above his blond Dutch boy locks. Previously unheard sounds that only he could hear. Because the rest of the world just wasn't as turned on as he was painting his inner monologue black. Brian Jones wasn't only on a trip, he was a trip unto himself. And Brian Jones and Princess Margaret weren't the only ones getting far out. It's hard to imagine now, but Keith Richards himself felt pressured by the LSD culture being spun out by Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters. The American hippie dictate that if you weren't experimenting with acid, he couldn't possibly be turned on, couldn't possibly be be hit. It helped that unlike Princess Margaret and Brian Jones, Keith could handle his drugs even when the trips turned bad, as they often did. One minute you're chasing the hallowed lost cord through a field of wild horses and the next you're down a bad road dealing with demons your conscience has up to that point successfully kept dormant. Christopher Gibbs was helpful to have around in those moments. Gibbs had a way of reassuring Keith, talking him down off the ledge, bringing him back into the good graces of his trip. And Christopher Gibbs wasn't the only one. Keith, Mick, Brian, Marianne Faithfull, the rest of the Rolling Stones and the London musicians they hung around with had numerous upper class friends. Aristos whose experience they could rely on to steer them successfully up through the ranks of society and through the psychedelic twists and turns of drug culture. Christopher Gibbs Eaton the gallerist. Robert Fraser with his double breasted suits, Booker t in the MG's records and a growing taste for heroin. His Tiffany lamps and silver lined Tibetan skulls. Avant garde, exotic, as formative an influence as there ever was on young Keith Richards. Fraser and Gibbs were fearless, confident and gay and really could give a fuck who knew about it. They trucked with high society princesses and thieves. Among them them, lsd, black American R B, exotic art. They searched out and sometimes stole and hoarded rare first editions. They set the trends, chased flying saucers, dosed the Queen's sister, schooled Rolling Stones and fucked with brazen criminal minded charlatans like David Litvinov and his lot of East End gangsters, the Kray twins included. They opened the Rolling Stones up to a whole other world and and in the process introduced a spy into their ranks. Mick and Keith's very own George Blake, a turncoat, a snitch working double time for the Establishment. For Sergeant Pilcher and the News of the World, a walking pharmacy, really. He could procure whatever you wanted. Mandrax, dope, grass and of course, acid. The good kind. Strawberry fields and purple haze. He was, after all, The Acid King, aka Mr. X, aka David Schneiderman, aka David Britton, aka David Henry the American. And he would very nearly bring national disgrace to what London's old guard had deemed the most disruptive challenge the Establishment had seen in years. The most dangerous band on the planet, the Rolling Stones. I'm Jake Brennan and this is the Disgraceland. Disgraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page@gracelandpod.com if you're listening as a Disgraceland All Access member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it. And if not, you can become a member right now by going to destroy Disgracelandpod.com membership members can listen to every episode of Disgraceland ad free. Plus you'll get one brand new exclusive episode every month. Weekly unscripted bonus episodes, special audio collections, and early access to merchandise and events. Visit disgracelandpod.com membership for details, rate and review the show and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and Facebook at the Disgracelandpod and on YouTube at YouTube.com Disgracelandpod Rocka Rolla He's a bad bad man.
Liberty Mutual Announcer
Limu and I always tell you to customize your car insurance and save hundreds with Liberty Mutual. But now we want you to feel it. Cue the emu music.
Jake Brennan
Limu Save yourself money today. Increase your wealth. Customize and save. We save.
Liberty Mutual Announcer
That may have been too much feeling. Only pay for what you need@liberty mutual.com Liberty Liberty Liberty Liberty Savings Very underwritten by Liberty Mutual Insurance Company and affiliates. Excludes Massachusetts.
Expedia Announcer
Mike and Alyssa are always trying to outdo each other. When Alyssa got a small water bottle, Mike showed up with a 4 liter jug. When Mike started gardening, Alyssa started beekeeping.
Jake Brennan
Oh come on.
Expedia Announcer
They called a truce for their holiday and used Expedia Trip Planner to collaborate on all the details of their trip. Once there, Mike still did more laps around the pool.
Jake Brennan
Whatever.
Expedia Announcer
You were made to outdo your holidays. We were made to help organize the competition. Expedia made to travel.
Host: Jake Brennan
Release Date: September 12, 2025
This episode of DISGRACELAND launches a two-part dive into the chaotic, crime-riddled early years of the Rolling Stones. Against the backdrop of swinging 1960s London, host Jake Brennan connects the Stones’ rise to infamy with East End gangsters, aristocratic revelry, a notorious prison escape, and a societal backlash that cast them as the anti-Beatles. It’s a story of music, rebellion, and the dark convergence of drugs, crime, celebrity culture, and establishment resistance.
The Anti-Beatles Dynamic:
Social Uproar:
The Kray Twins:
Violence & Notoriety:
Entrée into High Society:
The Influence of LSD:
On disruption:
“The Rolling Stones disrupted London's established social order with their music, their attitude, and their vast influence as pop stars.” — Jake Brennan (03:55)
On the Krays’ power:
“The new casinos only brought more power to organized criminals like Ronnie and Reggie Kray.” — Jake Brennan (10:10)
On the Stones’ place:
“Would you let your daughter marry a rolling Stone? This was the question being posed by lazy British journalists, being spoon fed by Stone's manager Andrew Lou Goldham, who was eager to draw a contrast between his group and the Beatles.” — Jake Brennan (20:18)
On internal band tensions:
“Mick didn’t care. The little shit had it coming because Brian gave that fucking interview to the News of the World...” — Jake Brennan (25:55)
On the high society drug scene:
“He sponsored wild LSD-fueled trips to Stonehenge with Mick, Keith, Marianne and Princess Margaret.” — Jake Brennan (30:40)
On the Stones’ unmatched danger:
“...what London’s old guard had deemed the most disruptive challenge the Establishment had seen in years. The most dangerous band on the planet: the Rolling Stones.” — Jake Brennan (37:46)
| Timestamp | Segment Description | |-----------|--------------------| | 03:41 | Main theme set—Rolling Stones as ultimate disruptors | | 09:49 | The Kray twins and London’s criminal underworld | | 13:55 | Keith Richards’ prison experience parallels George Blake | | 18:12 | Beatlemania and establishment contrast with Stones | | 25:02 | Initiation of police raids against pop stars; Pilcher’s rise | | 26:39 | Brian Jones, News of the World, internal paranoia | | 30:00 | Gibbs, royal drug parties, LSD scene | | 32:47 | Keith Richards and the Stones’ relationship to psychedelics | | 36:57 | Introduction of ‘The Acid King’—the setup for the famous bust |
Jake Brennan’s narration is sharp, cinematic, and relentlessly unsentimental—blending black humor, social observation, and a palpable reverence for rock’s wild edge. His style melds documentary grit with noirish asides and hyperbolic dramatization, perfectly suited to DISGRACELAND’s true crime/music fusion.
Part 1 of the Rolling Stones saga in DISGRACELAND weaves a riveting narrative of cultural upheaval: the Stones’ confrontation with London’s establishment, their entanglement with gangsters and royalty, and their emergence at the center of a drug-fueled morality war. The stage is set for Part 2, promising even greater scandal as the band teeters on the edge of disaster—in no small part due to the sinister figure of "The Acid King."