OLIVER Reed. Francis Bacon. Pete Doherty. And there is one last rebel keeping up the great British tradition of wild drunken hellraising. Me.
I drink bars dry. I wreck shit. My sexual appetite is prodigious and indiscriminate. Largely I’ve kept this hidden from the public until today, when the news that I broke a man’s neck hit front pages and my secret was out.
The press swallowed the cover story about it being a ‘car crash’. Yeah, right. He was hanging upside down in a f**k-harness when it happened. Sure, I rode his head a little too hard. I was insensate through cocaine. No wonder his neck went.
Then again, given how many drunken vehicular incidents I’ve been involved in over the years, it’s hardly a total lie. Once I’m a bottle of Wild Turkey down, suddenly I’m challenging everyone

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