About an hour ago she gave a slurred speech to anyone who would listen (Hendrix was there) about staying true to herself. Then she injected some horse tranquilisers into her eyeball. But it doesn’t even come close to being in among her worst moments up here…
- There was the time when she went into a bat-shit-mental frenzy over the fact that she was all set to get the lead role in Hannah Montana but she failed every single one of the 74 different wart tests required by Disney’s insurers.
- The time she catapulted herself over the 60 foot fence that surrounds the PopeZone in an attempt to “blow a Pontiff.” She got as far as persuading Sylvester III to listen to part of a Guns N Roses CD before the alarm went off – she got eight weeks in solitary for that.
- Then there was the time she filmed herself and Scatman John going at it like knives in a hot tub filled with trifle. She was trying to get Acorah or one of those fuckers to download it into their brain, then remake it on Earth and forward the proceeds to her kids. The fucking camera wasn’t even switched on.
- The ongoing shit storm between Anna Nicole and J. Howard Marshall. Obviously she couldn’t kill him again, but the poor bastard has been through the fucking mill in his attempts tried to win her back. She got him to finance her one woman show, which was just her kneeling in a Perspex box, dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard Of Oz, barking for two hours. It closed on the fourth night.
Happy deathday Anna Nicole!