Recent jailbird Pete, with his trouser flies charmingly undone and sores on his face, turned up at tattooed Amy’s home in the early hours and the shambolic duo then took off in a car to a Soho jazz club, only to find it shut at 2.15am.

“They banged on the windows and shouted and whistled to get it open to no avail,” says our late owl.

“They then got back in the car, bought a copy of a music magazine with Doherty on the front cover from a late-night shop and sped up North to stay with a friend.”