The thing about Pete Doherty is well, he’s rubbish, he serves no purpose, has no obvious talent and has people frothing at the mouth as if he’s some sort of genius bard of our times, he’s not.

For some inexplicable reason he has just been voted ‘Hero of the year’ by the NME. The NME has had a similar decline in quality as the alternative UK music scene has, almost as if they are in cahoots together to drag everything down and make it as bland as possible. Once upon a time the NME was essential reading, brilliantly written by a crack team of the finest music journalists out there; David Quantick, Stuart Maconie, Andrew Collins, Steve Lamacq, Stephen Wells, Dele Fadele…now it’s an indie version of Heat magazine, full of posters, gossip from the indie scene, free cds, only people perceived as being cool on the cover rather than being there for any musical merit.

Teenagers are impressionable enough as it is. When all the girls at my school started listening to The Cure, they all started cutting themselves and as for Kurt Cobain, pah, unwashed fake smack addicts were in abundance in Leeds but oddly enough, they couldn’t actually afford crack even though it was as easily accessible as a pint of milk. So the fact NME is still on the shelves is indicative of the dumbing down of the great British public and it doesn’t get any dumber than thinking that this dirty Doherty oik is some kind of hero.

Pete’s patter is that he is a lost soul with an open heart, a broken guitar his only friend. This doesn’t wash, it washes even less than he does, when he does his doe eyed sensitive person of the people act, the look of sincerity which anyone can do if they make their eyes a bit big (see also Princess Diana, Queen or Hearts), doesn’t ring true. His puffy smacked up face and translucent skin just makes him look like some modern day Rodney Bewes (Google him, kids…see?) or a pile of sick that someone has circled the basic shape of a face round.

His guitar playing is diabolical to say the least, anybody who got a guitar for Christmas last year can already play better than him and because they have not yet started injecting heroin/crack/whatever into their finger nails to make it look like they’re not injecting (also see Amy’s finger nails), they don’t have black and blue finger nails either.

He is not the voice of a generation and furthermore he looks like Stig of the dump. I’m old school; I don’t want a band to look more dishevelled or uglier than the audience, why can’t bands look as great as Blur anymore? Or as fuckable as the Strokes for the ladies?

I’ve seen the Libertines and Babyshambles several times and they’re both awful but his fans at his gigs are like brain washed zombies who truly believe in this press enhanced messiah status which has been bestowed upon him…brain washed into thinking its good more like.

Doherty’s influence is not in question here, his influence is obvious in many of the bands around at the moment and for that he has to take some sort of responsibility for the sheer lack of quality UK bands. For many of the new set of ‘indie’ fans, they think indie is this new form of music which came out in 2002 and not in fact by bands such as Subway Sect or labels like Stiff and Factory in the late 70s.

The school of 2002 was a core of four bands, The Strokes, White Stripes, The Vines and London’s response, The Libertines, Doherty’s former band. Of those four, The Strokes looked fantastic but were lumpen and stodgy, White Stripes are in a league of their own and continue to excite and confuse listeners, The Vines are great but Craig Nichols mental health issues continue to get in the way, and then there’s The Libertines. Although ‘What a waster’ and ‘I get along’ were genuinely exciting punky pop tracks but the stories of internal strife were always more entertaining. The no shows, the burglaries, the jail sentences, the rumours of male prostitution which all culminated into a debilitating smack addiction for the bands co-leader. As history has it, Doherty formed another band while in The Libertines so Carl Barat, the joint front man threw him out of the band and soon after that, The Libertines split up soon after releasing a decent second album.

Since then Doherty has served no purpose whatsoever, his subsequent band have dished up two albums, the first a smack addled car crash, the second with songs so bad even legendary production genius Stephen Street couldn’t make it sound good, even his legendary fingers couldn’t polish this turd.

When a band makes it, sooner or later lots of other bands pop up copying said band, because of Doherty we have; The Rumblestrips, Macabees, Larrikin Love, Mystery Jets, The View, The Fratellis, the comeback of Chas and Dave, you can even hear his influence in god awful ‘alternative pop’ trio Scouting for Girls, all of them have heard The Libertines and thought ‘I can do that’….you can’t and whatever ‘THAT’ was, was rubbish. Twenty years ago UK bands such as Ride, Swervedriver and My Bloody Valentine were showing people what great noises were possible with a guitar and 20 years later it’s acceptable to sound like a half boiled skiffle group busking on the tube with a singer who sounds like a piss smelling, Tenants super addled tramp who’s just been woken up with a start on the tube.…it’s not on!

Only one decent band has come out from the existence of the Libertines and that’s the Arctic Monkeys but now they are about to lose it also. Cutting edge when still based in Sheffield, now, a move to London and an average second album later they are now scenesters who only win awards because award panellists have no imagination and they think it’s the right thing to do, showering them with awards because they saw them win some at the Brits or whatever.

They now have celebrity girlfriends (like Doherty did) and hang out with a type of celebrity which is totally despicable, only famous because they came out their mummy after their mummy and famous daddy did a drunken shag in 1986, the celebrity spawn. None of these people actually do anything, they are so bereft of talent that they can’t even do modelling, the main criteria of modelling being quite easy to attain; eating disorders, walking and sustaining a debilitating drug addiction, no, not even that so they slag themselves out to bands to get column inches in-between trips to rehab and being generally loathsome and useless and leeching fame from their famous in the 80s parents. Parents such as Bob Geldof, Mick Jagger, Brian Ferry, Rod Stewart, The Osbournes, who were no good in their own right either.  I’d mention their useless children by name but they are so insignificant I wouldn’t want to waste your time or my energy typing them and they’ve all got stupid names anyway.

Hero of the year? The only thing I can remember Doherty doing last year apart from court appearances and shit albums was becoming Amy Winehouse’ rock (heh, yeah? I said rock, geddit?) when her beloved Blake went on remand, was it a coincidence that she was soon seen sucking on a glass dick not long after? Hmm, maybe not.

Other than bad albums, he also makes art made from his own shit and it’s not the only talent he has which he finds inspiration for as his so called lyrics also come from within the u-bend and pooed out over half arsed musical ramblings which have the nerve to masquerade under the name ‘music’…muse-shit more like.

Back to the subject of celebrity girlfriends, people say to me, well how come he went out with Kate Moss, one of the most beautiful girls in the world, he must have something?

Well yes, the answer is simple – a guitar. If I went out and bought one now and took it home within an hour of learning how to play it, she’d be knocking at my door wanting to come in and do some of that caterwauling which mysteriously gets described as singing over one of my amazing tracks, oh, that and endless plus ones into gigs.

Moss is so desperate for attention and adoration that if I was sitting on my sofa at home and opened my legs slightly to get more comfortable whilst enjoying Eastenders she’d be at my door AGAIN as she’d heard there was a fab opening of whatever going on which she absolutely MUST attend, thus ruining my enjoyment of Eastenders and being made to slam the door in the face of the ‘most beautiful girl in the world tm’ for the second time in the same evening.

He’s a genius lyricist apparently, well, I’ve looked at these ones for months now but the brilliance has not popped up and made itself obvious yet, from ‘Sticks and stones you get this; “Schizoid, fame on the run, don’t look back into the motherfucking sun, sticks and stones may break my bones,Oh but your words they really hurt me”.

To me, that’s some words that barely rhyme, an old song title with a fuck in it and part of a nursery rhyme changed slightly to whinge about what Carl Barat has said about him in the press, stop snivelling and SHUT UP!