I was talking about Slick Rick last night. I was saying that even if I ever (hoping this never happens) lose an eye, I wouldn’t rock an eye patch with as much swagger as Rick the Ruler. Likewise, I think it’s safe to say that I’ll never party like Billy Idol.
Checking into a sumptuous suite at the Mandarin Oriental – an imposing, regal hotel perched on the banks of the Chao Phraya River – peroxide rocker Billy Idol set about cooking up a maelstrom of debauchery with an assembly of prostitutes. Stuffed to the gills with drugs, Idol demolished furniture, reduced his TV to rubble and spilt all manner of liquids on the carpets. Unable to restrain the spiky haired libertine, the hotel was forced to call in the Thai army who resorted to shooting the unhinged Billy with tranquilliser darts after he refused to leave his suite. He was checked out of the hotel on a stretcher.