When planet tabloid was spurting all sorts the other day about Pete Doherty getting a decent 40 winks on his double mattress in Wormwood while keeping up with his all his favourite telly and music (via a TV and a radio in his room), we smelled a rat.

The tabloid truthsayers now say Pete is actually kipping on a wee stained single mattress in a shared cell, with no telly or radio, and only a drug dealer on hand for late night chit chat.

A fellow inmate has snapped Pete killing time brushing his teeth and gazing at urine coloured walls whilst sporting a fashion prison combo from hell of too small t- shirt, half mast tracky b's and black bovver boots.

And The Sun's people on the inside also say Pete's still managing to get chopped - by scoring drugs on tick ahead of his measly prison wages. Aswell as being watched over by a scary but cuddly streetfighter called 'Ray' after rumours about Doherty taking in enough scrag to sink a small dinghy with him were started by jealous inmates.

All of which leads us to believe that a stint in the crowbar hotel is not really very nice at all.