Ben Delicious writes from Las Vegas: Prince Harry’s latest ‘adventures’ prove that hellraising sure ain’t what it used to be.
Let’s face it, for the third in line to the British throne it was pathetic to invite a bunch of total strangers to his hotel suite and then play naked billiards with chicks while the men watched. Is that supposed to be the ultimate in wild partying? It smacks more of a total lack of imagination and, to be perfectly frank, blows Prince Harry’s cred as a hellraiser to shreds. (Although some people might say that it’s nothing compared to what Harry’s elder brother did when he married a woman who is as unsuitable to be queen as a Soho drag act.)
Stirring Trouble hears that Prince Harry is now very worried that more photos of him having a good time in Vegas may surface soon. But even if they do you can rest assured that we will see something very stupid and unremarkable again.
Mind you, Prince Harry is not alone in missing the point about classy hellraising. It’s happening all over the place now. Known party animals prove to be bland and unimaginative. The best they can come up with is getting pissed or stoned in a matter of minutes, taking their kit off in front of others or shagging each other silly in bathrooms, broom cupboards or under the tables. Jumping into swimming pools while fully clothed is also considered cool and funky for some unknown reason and hitting the club scene is an established part of the hellraising deal these days, as if nightclubs were the best places to socialise with others, with the music playing so loudly that no one can hear what people are saying. Not to mention that so-called ‘dancing’ in clubs looks pathetic.
Personally, I blame Hollywood with its sick and twisted take on partying. It’s all about sniffing endless lines of cocaine and sucking booze from a bottle, gyrating to the sound of some shitty pop and banging bimbos that you chat up in bars or nightclubs or hire through an escort agency. Or pick up on the street, as happened in Pretty Woman, and fall in love with them.
Thick actors and actresses, who live in a fantasy world of movies, behave exactly the same way in real life. These overpaid talentless s..ts think that a good party or a hellraising stint is all about coke, booze and hookers – or male prostitutes, if they’re broads supposedly having a good time. It’s the same boring routine all over, with tabloids coming up with pathetic stories of wild drinking and drug taking and shagging. Every bloody account is exactly the same as thousands of others. There’s no classiness to the partying, no originality, no anything.
Pop stars are even worse than actors. Once they get their first hit, or semi-hit, they think it obliges them to start behaving like total idiots. It’s the notoriety factor, you see. Pop stars have to be seen as notorious. So these degenerates start hitting the party scene big time, getting drunk and stoned and shagging groupies. Endless non-events follow, with nothing said of any interest and burping and farting and throwing up in front of everyone considered cool and original.
And it’s the same boring stuff all over the place now, be it money men, blowing fortunes in restaurants and then moving to nightclubs for the same old routine of getting stoned and copulating with some waitresses or lap dancers. Or brain-dead new rich, who got their money by pure luck or by conning others, or celebs or even royalty, who’ve really let down the whole concept of the monarchy, behaving like dim-witted peasants with no idea of what fun is.
Classy partying and hellraising are not about blowing tonnes of cash on booze and dope and casual sex and they are not about being rude in front of your mates to waiters and barmen and hotel staff who can’t answer you back. Proper old fashioned classy hellraising is all about being original, having something funny to say, being able to conduct a conversation and, most importantly, holding your drink well. It’s about introducing something spectacular, such as getting a famous opera singer to perform – yes, an opera singer not some brain dead-pop star – and maybe even holding an auction of a drawing you did earlier, to raise money to save some poor kid from dying, and being witty and original and not needing dope to get a high.
If you turn into an idiot after a bottle a wine and a sniff of coke, as it happens to most high-profile hellraisers nowadays, and start behaving like a baboon on steroids, then you’re no party animal. You’re just a brain-dead lowlife who only thinks that he’s a hellraiser. You’re no fun to be with, you’re boring and the best thing for you would be to shove off somewhere and sleep it off, you boring prick – or prickess. And you’d be better off staying at home, or at your castle if you’re a prince, and getting drunk all by yourself.