Gigi Hadid: Which celebrities would be the best to get high with?

MODEL Gigi Hadid has been arrested for cannabis possession in the Cayman Islands. Hey, we’ve all been there. But if you could abuse drugs with any celebrity, which one would it be? Read on. 

Debbie Harry 

Everyone loves Ms Harry, but according to a weary studio techie Blondie were a nightmare to deal with, due to their natural New York rudeness being cranked up by shedloads of cocaine. However, apart from the high, it’d be well worth doing just for the anecdote value at dinner parties. ‘And then Debbie Harry had a nosebleed all over me…’ definitely beats ‘I was so pissed I puked on a tram in Riga’.

Drugs rating: 8


Steve-O really, really liked coke, to the extent of snorting some soaked in HIV+ blood on one occasion. Hanging out regularly with a heavily addicted user is not without its risks, more so if they’re on Jackass and persuade you to take part in an ill-conceived prank such as riding down an escalator in a shopping trolley full of carving knives. 

Drugs rating: 5

Nigella Lawson

Yet another celebrity fan of cocaine. Do none of them ever huff Bostik out of a plastic bag just for a refreshing change? Nigella is so nice it’s unlikely she’d turn into an obnoxious cokehead, just go slightly manic and decide to roast a duck with all the trimmings at 3am. Which would be great if you were peckish, and also might fortify you slightly against the incredibly grim yet weirdly hard-to-pin-down feelings of futility the next day.

Drugs rating: 9

Brad Pitt

If shrieking coke binges aren’t your thing, weed fan Brad is your guy. By all accounts fairly amiable (unless you’re Angelina Jolie) the only danger of getting high with hippyish Brad would be if he decides you should have an Ozric Tentacles marathon. Brad is apparently very good at rolling, so he’d be useful to know if your spliffs either require the lung strength of an Olympic swimmer to drag on, or are saggy little pillowcases that disintegrate in flames like miniature Hindenburgs.

Drugs rating: 7

Bella Hadid

Sharing a joint with a top model sounds cool but there are downsides. First up, you’d get paranoid about staring at her, even if you weren’t. Also, stoned conversations are pretty tedious at the best of times, and it seems likely that models mainly talk about clothes. If she got onto the topic of Zayn Malik you’d get trampled in the rush to go to the garage for some more Rizlas and kettle chips.

Drugs rating: 5

Craig Charles 

It’s some years since Craig’s tabloid drugs scandal, but he’s included for purists who prefer hitting the crack pipe good and hard without annoying distractions like human interaction. To this end he had a sweet set-up: a grimy mattress surrounded by glasses of piss. It’s the sort of minimalist functionality IKEA can only dream of.

Drugs rating: 6

Frank Bough

After a certain age, you haven’t got the stamina to stay up all night doing E, so what you need is a middle-aged coke-fuelled sex party with Frank Bough. Frank was 55 when details of his slightly atypical hobbies came to light, so it’s reasonable to assume the sex was fairly sedate and everyone politely did lines off a Roger Whittaker CD. So much more civilised, and you could wear your favourite jumper without feeling ‘uncool’.

Drugs rating: 10

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Wetherspoons at last orders, and other British locations that will shatter American tourists' illusions

TO Americans, Britain is Buckingham Palace, Stonehenge and Hogwarts. To maintain the illusion they should avoid these locations:

Any supermarket

Our supermarkets are neither Harrods nor the village shops of wartime dramas. The British shopping experience consists of industrial quantities of frozen food in trolleys, with a good smattering of rough families in Adidas buying microwave oddities and vodka. Groceries aren’t packed in paper bags so they’ll get stung for a 30p Bag for Life, while the pensioner behind tuts because they’re friendly to the cashier and were late joining WW2. 

Wetherspoons at last orders

At the best of times it’s not a cosy pub with a raging fire, darts and a dog to pet. Rustic ploughman’s lunches would be an unwelcome distraction for the red-nosed 7am regulars. But kicking out time is when the violence begins. On the upside Spoons sells shit beer to make Americans feel slightly at home, but tourists seeking an interactive art exhibition can witness a Hieronymus Bosch painting come to life at 11.20pm at The Capitol in Forest Hill.

The away end at the footy

Americans will quickly realise this is not the sporting experience they’re used to. Here we have no national anthems sung by beloved R&B stars. No lush green outfield of a major league baseball ballpark. No, this is lower tier football. A nil-nil draw on a mashed-up pitch at Leyton Orient. Here we don’t celebrate our athletes. We call them wankers. It’s normal to threaten to kill your own team’s 19-year-old winger if he missed a sitter in the 95th minute.

The British seaside

Nothing about our shitty seaside towns is quaint. It’s raining and the seagulls are in attack formation,  so shelter in arcades and pretend to enjoy a 2p-shoving machine and a cacophony of random noise. Then they can get fish and chips that are surprisingly shite given they’re the town’s speciality and return to their hire car which has been clamped in a dodgy ‘£3 all day’ car park. 

Catching a train

Visions of the Flying Scotsman are mistaken. Coastal trains do not scenically snake their way through dales. 90 per cent of services are two-carriage rattlers with no compartments, no dining carriage with waiters, and no commuters in bowler hats with briefcases. Tracksuit bottoms and ankle tags, maybe. Oh and your journey costs £300, which is a little bit like the Orient Express at least.