hallelujah not here to bore you

Doppelgänger, kind of

There is a Japanese Pete Doherty. I saw him on the Hiroshima tram the other week:

With hindsight, I can see that I was dreaming, but I eagerly asked my friend to estimate his age, hoping for 25. I know. Just seeing someone who looks like the Dochster makes me act like someone with a long-running hard drugs habit and zero grip on reality. She said 17. Which I am sure is right. Oh well.

Anyway I was very proud to be able to sneak a shot of him, especially of him looking his most poetically wistful. Please plug at the guitar and write cute songs and white lines! Don't do them!

I'm still alive

... and Japan is still weird.

And if we could actually trust Japanese anthropology I now owe you such a huge amount of on or possibly giri (I never did know the difference, but basically, indebtedness for having given you trouble) for not having written anything for months...

...that not only do you get another Coogan for the collection:

...and another Henry:

(and that Barca shirt is all like, aw don't throe me but um I kinder likes it)

...but you also get an exclusive glimpse into the future. Yes I've seen future Pete Doherty and this is what he looks like:

Drugs. Just don't do them, kids. Look at them and then make sure to be as far away from them as possible.

Talking of which, Kevin Rowland is now on Myspace, and the music is good, hurrah! Of my love for Dexys Midnight Runners, more at some point (although if you read Danish, click here).

For now suffice to say I am SORRY! And I will return sooner than this time.

Honestly!

None of that

I'm sorry, love, you can put your arms down.

Well, this is the reason I am keeping this blog secret. I predictably suck at it. I had all these grand ambitions to write about the new singing sensation Pete Doherty before I go off to my Bulgarian homeshores for two weeks. But that's not going to happen.

I am going to try to commit to at least one blog a week. I know this is not much, but I will try to make them at least fairly in-depth and rewarding. And I will try to do more. Except for the next two weeks, of course, which will probably see nothing (as I am pretty much expecting Bulgaria to be a total dump. Literally, apparently my dad's village is on the edge of a nuclear power plant).

I leave you with a couple of very earnest and worthy entries. Sorry about that too. Oh, and here's some more crap.

Na zdrave.

Gollum's Best Friend

A post is coming in the not too distant future about the masterpiece of documentary filmmaking that is "Who The F*** Is Pete Doherty". Until then, please enjoy it here, courtesy of Google video:

And before you judge too harshly, have a heart. I mean, really, can you look at Piddy's bandmate and honestly tell me you wouldn't be a total smack whore if you had to follow this face every day? Even Frodo went crazy with it eventually.

Come to think of it, it's the presence of faces like these that makes it obvious why the benefits of coming off drugs continue to completely elude the Dochster.

Of course, this does not explain why the drugs started in the first place. Before his recent fatface tendencies, Carl was really too pretty for words:

On the topic of which, isn't it amazing how subtle the difference is between come-to-bed and drugged-out-of-one's-face eyes?

And yet so obvious.

Scatlin' takes drugs in psychic defence

Pete Doherty seems to have based his professional life and appearance on the film choices of Ewan McGregor. Which I'm not mad at. It has brought us the cheekily sweet Bohemian hat-wearing Moulin Rouge Pete.

 

 

It has given us Velvet Goldmine-esque sexily smeared mascara glam Pete:

Did Pete have an affair with Jonathan Rhys-Meyers? I think it's irrefutable. What other human being could possibly make Pete look this happy? Kate Moss? I think not.

Amazing: twice as many boobs, but not even half the sex. Quod erat demonstrandum.

But of course, there is also the whole heroin Trainspotting thing he seems to have a wee bit of a thing for.

This time, it ain't mascara makin' them dusky eyes.

And it's not just the look. Reading Irvine Welsh's original book, one could be forgiven for suspecting Mr Doherty to have taken heartily to a few of Rent Boy's statements. Like this one (warning: very strong language follows):

"Why is it that because ye use hard drugs every cunt feels that they have a right tae dissect and analyse ye?"

I don't know Pete, but could it have something to do with squirting your blood into every cunt's coupon?

Anyway, the best one by far is Renton's description of his relationship with girlfriend Hazel (not in the film):

"two fuck-ups thegither"

Aw. Why don't you kids get non-pseudo-Buddhistly married now and youse can be thegither ferivir.

And Pete? Never EVER watch Star Wars II - Attack of the Clones.