Don't think of it as dust. Just think of it as the dirt and dust of far-off lands blowing over here and settling on "Pig-Pen!" It staggers the imagination! He may be carrying the soil that was trod upon by Solomon or Nebuchadnezzar or Genghis Khan!
Historic site in a state!
I hope that you've got strong guts (whom ever 'you' might be - I doubt that there are more than a dozen regular readers of this thing), because you're about to get a peek inside the squalid world of Pete Doherty! Now before you go on reading this post, clear any youngsters away from the computer screen. What you are about to see and read is not pretty!
Now Pete has made a pretty public mess out of his life. That reached it's peek during his ill fated hook up with Cocaine Kate Moss. Moss is no prize herself. Since they went their separate ways Pete has calmed down somewhat, while Cocaine Kate has still managed to make it into the papers. The most recent incident was when Kate and her new boyfriend beat the shit out of each other during the Christmas holidays. Kate and the new beau then went out looking like an Amy Winehouse - Blake Civil Fielder rematch; showing off the new wounds and making flaky excuses to the press. "Christmas tree decorating got out of hand" I believe was Kate's excuse, until she finally 'fessed up and admitted 'yeah we beat the crap out of each other'.
Dirty Doherty
Pete on the other hand was laying low. He had to - he'd been put on probation for one of his latest drug binges, and was banned from living in London. That meant he had to find a new place of residence. A historic estate owned by the Earl of Cardigan, and set in the bucolic English country side seemed like just the place. There was nothing for Pete to do but sit back in his 1 million pd estate, relax, and concetrate on getting himself together. With Pete Doherty things are never that simple.
This guy makes Britney Spears look like Martha Stewart!
Pete has an avid interest in art. He's even a sort of pioneer in his chosen medium - blood. Many of you may have seen his blood spattered creations displayed on the Internet. Those are the one's that people are afraid to get with in 10 feet of lest they breath in some rancid new hyper ebola that's been quietly developing in Pete's germ infested body. Well it's probably not the most hygienic of pass times, but art can be therapeutic, So Pete is back on the blood spattering. Now this is where some of the trouble is coming in. Neighbors are voicing some concern over the amount of dried blood there is in Doherty's premises. Now that's got to be some kind of a health hazard. Worse still it's creating a stink immediately noticeable to any one foolhardy enough to enter
Casa del Babyshambles!
Cat Scratch Fever outbreak on the verge?
The blood isn't the only source of stink in the premises. Pete keeps 13 cats (collectively known as a '
coven of cats' - like a
flock of birds,
herd of sheep, etc.) - give or take a couple. Some disappear, new ones show up; Pete loses track. Pete is a considerate animal owner, and accords the little beasts the same freedom to come, go, and defect where and when they please, which he wants for himself. Naturally the cats left unattended and to fend for themselves, are turning the place into a kind of giant little box. It gets worse - muddy little cat tracks run through the entire house, and even up the walls. Pete swears that he doesn't know how the cat tracks got on the walls, but you can guess that it's some kind of drugged out prank; like when he videoed himself giving his cat crack.
Doherty doesn't spoil his son
Not that he treats his son
Astile any better. Pete has been making up for lost time with the boy, and so has moved him onto the premises. Not that Pete is a very responsible about the lad's living arrangements (nor his own either). The lad has a room, or a corner, where he sleeps on a kind of a mini couch. The window has no curtains, but is cover with a Union Jack used as a blind. The bed/couch is strewn with cloths, musical instruments, and blood smeared artworks. It's never too soon for a boy to learn to look after himself. Dad won't always be there to wipe his nose for him. Still I doubt the youngster makes any real effort to keep his space clean; what would be the point when living next to Hurricane Pete?
You may find yourself living in a shot gun shack
Besides, Pete's got other things to worry about, like maintaining a minimum level of consciousness. When you've incurred as much brain damage as Pete has, that can be a major challenge. For instance while the dilapidated old place falls down around his ears, Pete is known to serenely drift off into a coma, while lounging in his favourite chair. Now know one really expects Pete to be on the ball. The $64 ooo question is, "
How can a guy who is unconscious for the greater part of the day still find the energy to make that much mess??" If only those self destructive impulses could be channelled constructively, into washing, shaving, and cleaning the house, then
Doctor Entrophy might get in the
Home and Garden!
Carpe Diem, manana!
Well Pete may find himself living in a shot gun shack. He may even ask himself 'how did I get here' (With Pete that question is usually literal, rather than existential). They neighbors however are probably asking themselves 'when the hell is some one gonna step in a throw his ass out!' Well I imagine that Pete has some kind of lease guaranteeing a term of a year or two. The Earl is probably an absentee landlord, and couldn't give two shits what happening back on the estate ( and like much of the modern landed gentry is in desperate need of money, so is more concerned with what ever loot he's getting from Doherty rather than the historical significance of the property). Maybe the Earl is even taking the same low key attitude as Pete himself, and waiting for Doherty to OD himself. That way the problem resolves itself - no media and no court. Most people feel that Pete is overdue for a fatal OD by at least a decade!! It's more likely that archaeologists will dig the poor fellow up at some time in the distant future; still stoned and stunned, and sitting in the midst of the trash heap as if it were a cocoon. It never pays to bet against entropy, and Pete is entropy personified. Here's to the slob life of goalless individualism!
mañana está pronto bastante para mí
The faucet she is dripping and the fence she's fallin' down
My pocket needs some money, so I can't go into town
My brother isn't working and my sister doesn't care
The car she needs a motor so I can't go anywhere
(mañana, mañana, mañana is soon enough for me)
My mother's always working, she's working very hard
But every time she looks for me I'm sleeping in the yard
My mother thinks I'm lazy and maybe she is right
I'll go to work mañana but I gotta sleep tonight
(mañana, mañana, mañana is soon enough for me)
Oh, once I had some money but I gave it to my friend
He said he'd pay me double, it was only for a lend
But he said a little later that the horse she was so slow
Why he give the horse my money is something I don't know
(mañana, mañana, mañana is soon enough for me)
(mañana, mañana, mañana is soon enough for me)
My brother took a suitcase and he went away to school
My father said he only learned to be a silly fool
My father said that I should learn to make a chile pot
But then I burned the house down, the chile was too hot
(mañana, mañana, mañana is soon enough for me)
The window she is broken and the rain is comin' in
If someone doesn't fix it I'll be soaking to my skin
But if we wait a day or two the rain may go away
And we don't need a window on such a sunny day
(mañana, mañana, mañana is soon enough for me)
Oba! Oba!
(mañana, mañana, mañana is soon enough for me)
Oba! Oba!
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow; you're always a day away!
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