For a couple of seconds I felt like I was hallucinating. “It’s bloody warm” noted a softly spoken Peter Doherty to the concurring nods of the 20 or 30 people crammed into his north London sitting room. “Do you want some Haribo’s? I’ve got the sour ones and the gummy bears.” Bowls of the addictive sweets are passed around as Doherty jumps in and out of his balcony window, hopping from sitting room to bedroom bringing endless pizza and cans of lager. Fans ask to make toast while others ask for directions to his toilet. Looking around the room no one else seems to think that this is all a bit surreal. Here we are sitting in the front room of the estranged member of The Libertines, an icon for a generation, eating sugary sweets!