Magazine article The Spectator

I'm Boycotting Chanel for Their Disgraceful Treatment of Kate Moss

Magazine article The Spectator

I'm Boycotting Chanel for Their Disgraceful Treatment of Kate Moss

Article excerpt

Apologies if this article seems a little tired, a little jaded, but the problem is I've completely run out of smack. My dealer was supposed to swing by this morning with a new consignment of the best Transdniestran brown and I've been crouched down by the front door for six hours now, sweating like a Geordie sitting an IQ test, my muscles screaming out in pain, hot turkey kicking in big time. There are giant testicles with human faces in my kitchen, rummaging through the fridge, throwing food all over the place. Soon as I'm fixed up I'll, I'll, I'll, sort them out, the bastards. But first I have to vomit. Listen: this is real, OK? I'm out there, on the edge. I'm on the edge and I'm pushing the envelope. I'm on the edge and I'm pushing the envelope and I'm making it real. And now somehow I've dropped the envelope off the edge and the giant testicle things are closing in, laughing and jeering and doing these horrible, dislocating impressions of David Cameron and . . . listen, where's my dealer? Where's my maaaannnnn? Someone tell me, please.

Have you ever met a junkie? Christ, they're dull. If you haven't, you would be appalled by the lagoons of self-obsession, self-pity and -- most tellingly -- self-justification within which they wallow, convinced that their recreational habit, their decision to get out of their boxes, is something to be simultaneously admired and respected.

There is the perpetual, unspoken suggestion that their irresistible penchant for heroin -- or coke, or crack, or ecstasy -- is something which has been forced upon them by inclement circumstances; the tedium and desperation of their daily lives, the pressure of being, say, a model or a professional footballer, the need for a 'creative' stimulus. I don't want to do this stuff, it's because I've got no money and no future and it's the only way to kill the pain. I don't want to do this stuff, it's because I'm so affluent and don't know how else to spend the money, plus all my friends do it. And so on. Always, with druggies, there's the self-justification and the embarrassing melodrama. The good libertarian might well insist that people have the right to entertain and harm themselves however they see fit, so long as it does not harm anyone else. But this is not how the true druggie sees the world. They embrace the libertarian notion of how they should be allowed to do stuff, but they carry with them the welfare capitalist ethos that it's not actually their fault they want to do it and that someone else should take the blame. And indeed pay. And that somebody else is you and I.

Such is the case with Kate Moss.

According to India Knight in the Sunday Times, she is a 'victim' -- which, coincidentally, is exactly how Kate and her talentless, inarticulate, fat-faced idiot of a boyfriend, Pete Doherty, see themselves. They are not people who have made a decision about their lives and decided after rational contemplation that sackloads of coke and the occasional crack pipe are what's called for: no, they take drugs simply because they want to, because they have become accustomed (not addicted) to doing so, because it's fun and in some way 'cool', and they are too thick to comprehend the consequences.

Yer intellectuals will argue that without drugs many great artistic moments would not have been realised. What would we know of William Burroughs and Bret Easton Ellis, for example? …

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