Moss Mashed At Mandela Mansion?

The modeling world was rocked once again by allegations that supermodel Kate Moss was high as a kite* on a lethal cocktail of cocaine, smack, creme de menthe and Angel Delight during a 1998 party at the home of Former South-African President Nelson Mandela. Moss, when confronted about the allegations, denies she was mashed off her tits when she met the then-South African Premier.



“I wasn’t oven-baked,” Moss said at a press conference. “It was a long flight to South Africa, and I was tired. There’s no way I’d have taken some of the finest Colombian white snow to give myself the wallop needed to get through that party. And it wasn't even a real party. There weren't balloons, cake or any party hats. And anyway, if I needed a boost I’d have just gotten some coffee. And snorted it.”

Added Moss, “besides, we all thought we needed something to help us through that party. I mean, I didn’t even see Nelson there. Either of them.”



Kate, also known by her ‘drug-name’ of Medicinal Moss, has long had a very public battle with drugs which most felt was over when she finally snorted so much coke her ears exploded, her left arm became her right and her nose slipped down the front of her face and ended up by her navel.



Cocaine, a Class-A drug, has a variety of street names, such as Charlie, Gigglepowder, The Admiral's Daughter, Lively Dynamite and James Nesbit's Effervescent Nose Slicer. Cocaine gets its name from its ingredients, which include Chocolate, Tear Gas, Indian food and script music from Andrew Lloyd Webber Musicals. It's street-level price range from not much to quite a lot, depending on the quality of the musical.

Sources close to Ms. Moss claim that she may have used some kind of drug before the party, because she was hopelessly, hopelessly addicted to all kinds of chemical substances. Gavin Maselle, model booker and drug-buddy of Moss says, “yeah, she needed the drugs because she was hooked. That’s what drugs can do. Hook you. I reckon that’s because they’re addictive or something. And if you’re not careful, before long, you’re totally skint and on a deserted harbour in Weymouth, bent over a barrel with a six-foot high, twenty stone bald man calling himself ‘The Fagentaor’ behind you wielding a snooker cue and aiming for the brown. But, in Kate’s case, she just went for Pete Doherty. Probably a worse choice, but there you are."



*allegedly.
with thanks to Robotman for help with a photoshop