Nachdem wir unseren alten Concierge letzte Woche wegen schlechtem Musikgeschmack fristlos entlassen mussten, staunte der neue nicht schlecht über seinen ersten prominenten Gast: Pete Doherty hat seinen Wohnwagen unter der Westway-Bridge verlassen und klingelte gestern Abend an der Reception des 78s-Motels. Der arme Junge sah ziemlich fertig aus, wie unser Concierge fand. Trotz allem Mitleid liess er es sich nicht nehmen, Dohertys Telefon abzuhören. Für uns definitiv kein Kündigungsgrund.

Kate: Hello?
Pete: Kate, it’s me.
Kate: Leave me alone, you fucking bastard!
Pete: Kate, listen! There was nothing between Lindy and me! It was the media that –
Kate: And what about the zillions of other girls you fucked backstage, Mr. Doherty?! I’m tired of your excuses, Pete! Those two years with you have been a mess. You’ve had your chance, we’re through.
Pete: But Kate, there’s been beautiful moments too. Do you remember when we –
Kate: Played Pirates of the Carribean high on an infinite number of drugs and you puked sushi all over me?! Yeah, that was wonderful.
Pete: C’mon Kate, you know the times I mean…
Kate: When I wanted to introduce you to my parents and you just made those animal sounds all the time?!
Pete: Please Kate, stop it. Take me back. I’ll change!
Kate: „I’ll change“ – How many times have I heard this? It’s too late, Pete. I’ve burned all your letters and poems, even the paintings…
Pete (schluchzt): But didn’t those things show you how much you mean to me? You are the only love I’ve had and those paparazzi-arseholes destroyed it. (wimmert) I’ve never been so low. I want to die.
Kate (besorgt): Where are you now, Pete?
Pete: In a motel. I couldn’t stand that trailer anymore. Please Kate, I love you! You’ll buy me this thing to quit the drugs, we’ll marry, have kids and everything’s gonna be allright.
Kate: It isn’t that easy. I can’t solve your problems, Pete. You’re the only one who can. Start writing some songs for a change. Aren’t you tired of all those drugs?
Pete: Hold on. (schnieft)
Kate: Are you sniffing coke?
Pete: No, I’m just snorting because I’m crying.
Kate: I know you are.
Pete: But you sniff lines all the time too!
Kate: But I don’t fucking lie all the time! I’m sick of you, you junkie! I’ll find me a doctor, a lawyer, whatever, someone who’s reliable. Someone who cares. Someone who doesn’t fuck up all the time.
Pete (von Heulkrämpfen geschüttelt): Go find yourself some square blockhead! You’re gonna miss me, baby.
Kate: No, I won’t! (Hängt auf)

Illustration: Sarah Von Blumenthal