Pete Doherty Kicked Out Of Rehab For Being A Disruptive Mess

Pete “Dreamboat” Doherty has joined the EXCLUSIVE and illustrious list of less than 12 addicts who have been kicked out of The Cabin rehab clinic in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Put that certificate of crackhead excellence on your wall, Dreamy! (I’m sure he will.) The doctors at The Cabin obviously think that smoking your own blood in a pipe made from mouse bones and your own freshly churned ass glue is “disruptive behavior,” because that’s what he was thrown out for.

NME says that Dreamy checked into the £7,200-a-month rehab clinic, which is deep in the jungles of Thailand, less than three weeks ago and was put on a plane back to London yesterday. The Cabin’s director confirmed this sad (but not shocking) news with this statement:

“Pete was discharged today for therapeutic reasons. It is important to maintain the integrity of the treatment programme for the other clients to have a good chance of recovery. Pete understands this and therefore the reasons behind why we have asked him to leave. Although our parting with Pete is amicable, we are of course disappointed to see him leave. We hope some of the things he has learnt here will help him in the future and look forward to the day when Pete decides to consider recovery again.”

First of all, the words “Pete” and “discharged” should never be used in the same sentence, because that image just gave my brain a yeast infection. Second of all, that is a calm and well-written statement coming from a rehab director whose retinas nearly tore into a dozen pieces as he stretched his eyeballs in terror while watching creatures feed on plaque dingles on Dreamy’s teefs.

Oh, Dreamy, Dreamy, Dreamy…. I really thought that he was going to finally get it together after Amy Winehouse’s death sent him into an extra bad place where he woke up in the middle of a rising flood of his own shit. I know that when I wake up and can do the backstroke in a sea of my own caca, I take that as a sign. I hate to type this and I never type this, but Dreamy needs JESUS! Get it together, Dreamy, before I say that you need Scientology. Don’t make me type my way into that dark place.

How Pete Doherty Dealt With Amy Winehouse’s Death

Pete “Dreamboat” Doherty opened up to NME (Side note: You’re not alone if the words “Pete Doherty” and “opened up” in the same sentence makes your brain burp up the image of Goatse.) about how all he could do was shit, cry, yodel, shit and shit after his best friend and partner in fuckery Amy Winehouse died. Shit got so serious that Dreamy was close to needing a scuba kit to breathe under the rising scat stew that almost drowned him. Dreamy said:

“When Amy died I was sat in a matchbox room in Camden Town, not able to leave, basically wallowing in my own filth. Literally knee-deep in shit. Literally not able to move. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t see anyone, I couldn’t pick up the guitar and when I did pick up the guitar it was woeful ballads about how Amy wouldn’t be coming round tonight. It wasn’t a very inspiring time.”

On a positive note, at least he got a bath, even if it was a scat bath. I swear, I need to scrub my brain with a Baby Wipe after that visual and I’m surprised this is the first time I’ve had that visual since rolling around on a bed of caca seems like a regular day for Dreamy.

And yes, after all that, I still would, but sucking on his knee caps is out of the question!

Pete Doherty’s Shooting Up Days Are Over

There comes a time in every trick’s life when they have to grow up and graduate from young mess to old mess. Like take me for instance. I’ve been trying to drink red wine instead of tequila, because a bunch of doctor types on TV say that drinking 1 bottle of red wine every night makes your heart healthy and shit. Yes, those doctors might’ve said to drink 1 glass of red wine, but I was too drunk on red wine to fully understand and I don’t want to undernourish my heart of the red wine it needs. It’s better to be drunk than sorry. (Side note: Shouldn’t health insurance companies pay for your red wine? It’s heart juice! Somebody should tell Dr. Oz to get on this. He’s the Surgeon General, right? I know he’s at least the Surgeon Lieutenant.) Besides, ordering red wine at a restaurant makes you look extra classy.

Pete Doherty is growing up with me, because he has hung up his heroin needles for good. It’s not like Dreamboat has anymore veins his arms, but if he did, he wouldn’t stick a syringe full of the liquid bad shit into them anymore. Dreamy is only going to smoke his heroin from now on. That right there is the sign of a TRUE adult.

Dreamy had a conversation with The Independent to promote his new art show (???) in London and he talked about almost getting fork raped in the chokey and how he will never ever kiss his veins with the lips of a needle again.

On how Kate Moss had a serious elephant fetish: “Kate used to collect elephants, so I’d buy them for her wherever I went. When we split up she destroyed all my stuff, but she didn’t destroy my elephants. Because I couldn’t get over her for a while I just kept buying elephants and now I’ve got a huge elephant collection for sale. I might post them anonymously to her as a wedding present.”

On what he regrets about his relationship with Kate: “The drugs. The thing is, she knew from day one when we began our relationship that I was using very heavily. She knew that. So, you can’t suddenly turn around and say, ‘you’ve got to stop all that’. I do have regrets about Kate, but I wouldn’t want to talk to you about them. I’d only talk to a highly skilled doctor with large amounts of morphine and a hypnotherapist. And a small monkey.”

On how he’s retired from shooting up, because he wants to turn down his crackie antics for his new girlfriend: “I’ve stopped injecting. The only way I see myself in a serious relationship is if I am toning it down a bit. When you’re banging up all day you can’t really have someone else in your life, especially if she’s an English rose. I wouldn’t let her touch anything, I just wouldn’t.”

On how some dude threatened to butt rape him with a fork in prison: “I got on OK in Pentonville [in 2006] because it was kind of my local, if you like. A lot of people wanted to get me, but more wanted to do me a favour. In Wayland last year it was lads from east rather than north London, and loads of other places. People I didn’t know. I didn’t have any money, I didn’t have any drugs. One guy said he was going to stick a fork up my arse. I threw my telly at him because I thought that would get me put in isolation.”

On how his new daughter: “The little girl was two months premature. I said I’d try to be there for the birth. You know what, I don’t want to talk about that. Yeah, she’s mine. We’re using the baby’s blood in one of the pictures.” (Note: The interviewer says he thinks Dreamy was joking about that last part, but I’d be disappointed if a Pete Doherty art show didn’t have at least one work of newborn blood on it.)

2012 really is putting all of us through the changes. Case in point: Dreamy is getting Kate Moss a wedding gift that isn’t a crack pipe necklace and he handled that whole “fork rape” thing the way any normal person would by throwing a TV at that crazy bitch. The old Pete Doherty would’ve told that dude he’ll fuck two forks for a crack rock, a spoon and a syringe. You’re a big kid now, Dreamy!

Dreamy Is Somebody’s Father Again!

Pete “Dreamboat” Doherty looks about as clean as a subway rat’s torn off hemorrhoid floating in a Port-A-Potty toilet at the Gathering of the Juggalos, and yet he’s still in my Top 5 for reasons that are probably written down on my medical file at the free clinic. But even though I’m a disgusting piece of trash who may or may not have been known to put his retainer right back on after drunk barfing it out into a public toilet, I still wouldn’t let Dreamboat’s bare dick near me without injecting it with the cure from Contagion first. I’d also have to get a rat to nibble the cheese off and then I’d mummify it with condom shreds dipped it in Barbicide. But that’s just me and Dreamy’s ex-girlfriend Lindi Hingston is not like me. Lindi did it bareback-style with Dreamy and nine months later out popped a baby girl she named Aisling Doherty.

The South African model told the South African Sunday (via Daily Mail) that Aisling was born on Boxing Day of last year. Lindi called Dreamy when he was locked up in prison and told him that his son Astile now has a half-sister. Dreamy wants to visit Aisling, but he’s on probation right now and can’t leave the country. The worst part of all of this is what Dreamy said about the birth of Aisling. Dreamy said he was:

OVER THE MOON!!!!!

You know, I’m going to let that one slide, because Dreamy was probably hallucinating on (insert the name of any mind-altering substance here and you won’t be lying) and he was flying over the moon in his head.

The Daily Mail has pictures of young Aisling Doherty and she looks so pure and so innocent to the fact that her biological daddy is on The Health Department’s Most Wanted List. No, truthfully, I’m sure Dreamy will make a wonderful father. Dreamy will teach Aisling that if you never brush your teeth, you’ll have a four-course meal stuck in your molars. So when the the apocalypse hits, all of us will be starving while Dreamy will be eating a full meal off of his teeth. See, we can all learn something from Dreamy. Oh, Aisling, why so lucky?

Dreamboat Doherty Bought Himself A Very Special Holiday Gift

It’s been a while since I’ve checked up on Pete Doherty and in case you’re shooting up with the cold sweats in the middle of the night wondering about him, he’s still a fingernail gunk of a mess. The Sun says that Dreamboat was strolling through a flea market in Paris with his girlfriend when his glazed-over eye marbles caught five of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen in his entire life: a family of antique crackpipes from the 1930s! I’m sure that moment was like something out of a joint episode between Intervention and Antiques Roadshow. And of course, Dreamy’s first question to the dealer was…….

“He loved them and said he would take them all – then asked the guy if the pipes could still be used to smoke with.

“Pete had a stunning girl on his arm who looked the spit of Kate Moss and he was very friendly, polite and funny.”

In Dreamy’s defense, he always asks if he can smoke crack out of it before he buys it. That should be everyone’s number one rule in life: If you can’t smoke out of it, don’t waste your money on it! That’s why I make sure all the butt plugs I buy can double as a bong.

It’s OVAH

So the speculation is true. Despite a denial an few hours ago that all was sunshine and rainbows and nobody was getting served walking papers, TMZ now says that cromagnon Russell Brand filed for divorce from Crayola titties Katy Perry today in LA, citing “irreconcilable differences”. Well they’re both pretty irreconcialably um, “different” so this is not much of a shock.

I hate to go on a right to gay marriage rant (no I don’t) but they were married in October of last year. Sinead and her hubby called it quits after just a couple of weeks. The divine Liz Taylor was married eight times. So what the fuck is this “sanctity” people scream about? People promise to stay together until death, but then won’t even honor the promise by hiring a hit-man. Lazy. Seriously, shit like this right here makes me wonder why the gays aren’t allowed to break contracts left and right like us straights.

That’s why I just live in sin, sleeping with anyone with a six pack and a couple of joints. It’s so much easier to just sneak out a window half dressed in the middle of the night than show up in court and divide my shit up. And yes, I do feel the burning shame of giving Russell and Katy so much time in the precious Dlisted spotlight. Or is that the burn in my no-no region from my last drunk hook-up? Whatever, it hurts.