The rebel rousing Stones > seen as a threat to British society  > were being hounded by the police.

And  their bags > as  stated in the Connection song from album Between The Buttons (pictured) > did get a close inspection.

Drug busts and Mick Jagger/Keith Richards time in jail > albeit brief after a successful appeal > soon followed.

Everything is going in the wrong direction

The doctor wants to give me more injections

Giving me shots for a thousand rare infections

And I don’t know if he’ll let me go

Connection, I just can’t make no connection

But all I want to do is to get back to you

My bags they get a very close inspection

I wonder why it is that they suspect ’em

They’re dying to add me to their collection

And I don’t know if they’ll let me go

Connection, I just can’t make no connection

Living a life of constant change

Every day means the turn of a page

Yesterday’s papers are such bad news

Same thing applies to me and you

Who wants yesterday’s papers

Who wants yesterday’s girl

Seems very hard to have just one girl

When there’s a million in the world

All of these people just can’t wait

To fall right into their big mistake

[ Oh, the poor little thing > Jagger’s  got a million groupies to get through and marriage is the last thing on his mind ]

Please don’t be part of my life

Please keep yourself to yourself

Please don’t you bother my wife

That way you won’t get no help

Don’t try to ride on my horse

You’re rather common and coarse anyway

Don’t want you out in my world

Just you be my backstreet girl

[ Laying down the law to his squeeze on the side > “Yeah, you awright with that then, darling. We don’t have a problem, do we. Tell ya what, go get us another beer > there’s a good girl. ]

What you say girl, you see what is wrong

You must be joking, you was led along

But the butler, the baker, the laughing cavalier

Will tell me now, who’s been sleeping here

I want to know

Don’t you look like, like a goldilocks

There must be somewhere, somewhere you can stop

Yes there’s the noseless old newsboy, the old British brigadier

But you’ll tell me now, who’s been sleeping here

Who’s been eating, eating off my plate

Who will tell me, who’ll investigate