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Pete Doherty’s pristine party pad pictures posted!



Reclining in his rancid front room, with the fragrant smell of dirty underpants and crack pipes lingering in the air, PETER DOHERTY invites your favourite mag Hello-life! into his Wiltshire hovel,

The U.K. Sun reports July 5th.

The singer has carried out some extensive renovation to this charming turn-of-the-century cottage.

Period features include a cutting-edge collection of scabs in the bedroom, blood-spattered living room decor and a wild garden feature, at one with nature, at the front.

As he proudly shows off Chez Doherty, we marvel at the eclectic collection of rotting food in his bijou hallway kitchen — a minimalist glass-fronted beer fridge.



A fowl smell emanates from this area. “Home-made country broth?” we enquire, but it’s actually a half-eaten cheese roll, out-of-date milk and the remains of what was once a chicken. Clearly the home of a man too busy to shop regularly.

Included in the bohemian eating quarters is a primitive artwork on the wall.

The smear, in blood or some other brownish material, must have been sourced by a top dealer.

The ambience is enhanced by a large bag of catfood and, daringly, the top box from a Piaggio scooter.

With bated breath we are lured into Pete’s intimate bedroom.



He introduces us to his contemporary no-poster bed — which might appear to the uninitiated to be a grubby sofa with a unique brown and yellow stain-pattern.

A sheet and blankets on this cosy couch would just be too much — the fragrant, patchwork tea towel is the only intimate witness to the star’s sweet dreams.

It is here BABYSHAMBLES singer Pete entertains les belles dames de la nuit and watches late-night arts documentaries on his retro Eighties’ Hitachi TV, recovered from a skip, while smoking roll-ups made to an authentic Amsterdam recipe.

Next, it’s out on the road and “tally ho!” as Squire Doherty takes us out horseriding.


“Someone down the village pub offered me some horse,” he explains, a blush seeping through his sallow complexion, “but I couldn’t smoke him, he wouldn’t fit in my pipe, so I just ride him around now.”

No doubt there’s plenty of Ketamine on hand if the steed gets too frisky.

Pete’s love of animals doesn’t stop at horse. His feral, mangy cats have free run of the manor and, with a lackadaisical charm he can only admire, allow mice to race back and forth doing their business in his Coco Pops.

Luckily the milk has already turned brown.

Cunningly lit by a single low-wattage bulb, a valued antique judging from its period patina, the living room is the home’s heart.

Pete enjoys nothing more than experiencing his home cinema set-up — two rustic old TVs and one of the few remaining videos — from the comfort of his broken chair.


Sometimes, he will forgo his music muse and venture into installation art — scribbling randomly on the wall in mascara, assisted by his literary hero, The Cat In The Hat.

Guests are offered a range of drinks from chipped, stained mugs decorated with fag ash. Privileged ones may even be able to buy a souvenir sample from his collection of stolen minibar miniatures.

Pete has brought a unique charm to his idyllic rural hideaway. His neighbours must be delighted.

One Response to “Pete Doherty’s pristine party pad pictures posted!”

  1. He´s so hot…

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