Most hat wearing is pretty lame these days, very few can pull it off.
And even the ones who do, are still often cunts in other ways!
Take the English "rock star" Pete Doherty:
Now read his fucking awful diary/poem about doing "time" in prison:
January 28
The story starts here with a slap in the mush from some unsympathetic magistrate. I'm banged up in Pentonville with more than a tailor's dozen charges on me tail. God knows why: the band should be smashing up the Toon, Glasgae and Shepherd's Bush this weekend and instead I'm birded off on remand after a slow clucking duck walk (sitting too) through the bowels of Bethnal Green nick, Thames magistrates and now da 'ville. Innit bleeding marvellous?
January 29
I see paint-cracked walls stained with shite
Long long lock-up days
Cold lonely nights
And I think to myself ... what a wonderful world
I see men touching fists
Saying "watcha bruv"
Screams from below
Shit parcels from above
And I think to myself ...
I see my true love
On a Rimmel advert
January 30
I think I only needed something to hold on to. It has never been about depravity. It's always been about melody. But melody and I met in many depraved situations. Meeting melody is the victory of the empty spiralling nightmare.
February 1
Another cup of tea and the drilling continues. Another unthrilling day and my tooth aches like fuckery. Caught by my own stupidity I'd wager. At least I've got me own Peter [cell] for a while. Oh well, small mercies, small mercies. First time I've had a telly in me cell, watching prime minister's question time. A lot of hot air if ever there was any ... Stone me what a life. Hear, hear.