All in All

Unless you've been hiding under a rock, it's been impossible to get away from the waster activities of Pete Doherty this year if you live in the UK. Never being a fan of either the Libertines or Babyshambles, I find the constant attention he gets to be tiring in the extreme.

Last week was no exception. He was in court (again) on drugs charges (again) and managed to get away without a custodial sentence (again, although I appreciate he was inside a couple of years ago for burglary to fund his drug habit). On leaving court the sad fans applaud him as if he's a hero, and the NME are relieved to have hero-worship material to fill another few pages this week. I have managed to switch off in general when talk is going on about Doherty, but the Guardian publishing his prison diaries the other day was really too much for me not to comment.

If I may quote (for I'm having problems with links): "The story starts here with a slap in the mush from some unsympathetic magistrate. I'm banged up in Pentonville with more than a tailor's dozen charges on me tail. God knows why: the band should be smashing up the Toon, Glasgae and Shepherd's Bush this weekend and instead I'm birded off on remand after a slow clucking duck walk (sitting too) through the bowels of Bethnal Green nick, Thames magistrates and now da 'ville. Innit bleeding marvellous?"

Who does he think he is? Some modern day cheeky Artful Dodger cockernee character? His use of language is straight out of Dick Van Dyke in 'Mary Poppins'.

And then there's the appalling poem:

"I see paint-cracked walls/ stained with shite/ Long long lock-up days/ Cold lonely nights/ And I think to myself ... what a wonderful world/ I see men touching fists/ Saying "watcha bruv" Screams from below/ Shit parcels from above/ And I think to myself ... I see my true love On a Rimmel advert"

I am really lost for words sometimes.

# posted by hitch @ 1:45 PM