GETTING up at some horrible time of the day to do the show is rubbish, especially when you’ve been out on the pop all night. Last night was no exception – blimey, if I had a quid for every pint I drank, I’d be even richer than the rich man I already am (thanks licence payers!). It was a pretty heavy session – I was hanging out with a few pals of mine, you know, Pete Doherty – lovely bloke, Kate Moss – top lass, and some hangers on from Big Brother.

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