Turner Prize recipient-in-waiting Pete Doherty is to exhibit a new range of his fascinating paintings at London's Proud Galleries. As fucking usual, the chosen medium will be (Pete's) blood, which means that not only will the paintings appreciate in value, but they will disintegrate in hours, as his acidic 'Alien' blood rots away the canvas.
Unfortunately, Kate Moss will be unable to attend the launch party, as she'll be out of the country feeling sick and ashamed over her relationship, and is planning to large it in Ibiza rather than stroke her chin and pretend to be interested in her fiancé's latest folly.
Pete is also in talks to lecture to impressionable young art students around the country, so that more people can swoon at his sixth-form doodlings and suppress a smile at his over-inflated egotistical nonsense.
Painting in blood is SO nineties, Pete. Try spinal fluid or brain juice. Draw a pint of that off, begin sketching and I promise to buy the resulting triumph. Not that you'll know anything about it.