Creature of the wheel(chair)

The astoundingly shitfaced individual pictured at left is Babyshambles frontman/supermodel debaser/professional tweaker Pete Doherty, who we have discussed here previously. I had to settle for including this pic as opposed to the one I REALLY wanted to post, as it strangely doesn't seem to have the rounds on the 'net yet.

This is too bad because it's one of the best meltdown rocker pics I've ever seen. So what happened was, our little Petey got 'faced on a flight to Sweden and was detained after shooting up in the bathroom—hope they didn't hit turbulence! *rim shot* Upon the plane's arrival, Pete was too plastered to even stand so air marshalls stuffed him in a wheelchair to get him off the plane. The new Rolling Stone (the one with Depp on the cover) features the must-see photo of a fucked-up Pete being carted through the terminal in one of those little fold-up things like a gigantic retarded baby.

But it's what happened next that, disappointingly, the paparazzi seems to have failed to capture: he FELL OUT of the wheelchair and began squirming around on the terminal floor while flipping everyone off. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHERE ARE THE PICTURES OF THIS?? Even a grainy camera-phone shot will do. You can't tell me that NO ONE, whether it's an enterprising photographer or just a random traveler on their way to the baggage claim, snapped a photo of a crackhead tabloid darling falling out of a fucking wheelchair, that he was in because he was loaded and unruly on an international flight in the first place. The Sun alone would have probably paid thousands for this. But it appears that this may actually be the one time in history that everyone, everywhere was sleeping at the wheel.

Anyway, the story is funny, but it would be much funnier with the picture. I promise I'll post it once I find one...or if anyone wants to do the work for my lazy ass and scan in the shot from Rolling Stone, I'll give you a plaque.

Of course, all this raises the obvious question: why doesn't Pete just travel around on one of those Jazzy mobility scooters that old people ride around on? I'D totally ride around on one if I was amped up on speedballs all day. He could probably even write off the purchase; plus, he would likely start a new fad among London's nouveau-mod teens—imagine all the little hipsters in their skinny ties and felt fedoras putzing around Londontown on Rascals. He could even take it a step further by also installing one of those motorized seats that carries you up the stairs in his apartment to cut down on embarrassing drug-fuelled falls. And all his junkie friends would have a blast taking rides on it!

While we're at it, we need to also protect the public at large from Pete's shenannigans. Brits, please get a law enacted that requires Pete to go door-to-door and announce his arrival to the neighborhood, like registered sex offenders have to do. Because people need to know if they are in danger of being exsanguinated while they sleep, or having a shower of funk-tainted blood geysered at them from a filthy syringe, or of having a Jaguar spilling over with tripping speed freaks ripping through the yard and mowing down everything in sight. Take another look at that picture above: would YOU want this guy within 100 feet of you? He's so wasted! And the stink is practically oozing off of him and through the camera lens. Come to think of it, the sheer odor emulating off of his pale scabby body might even be worse than the rampant drug use. At least save us all from that shit.