The halls and bars of Claridge's hotel, London, are all but deserted. Night cleaners move discreetly around a solitary guest who nurses an unfinished drink.In an instant, the calm is shattered, as Rolling Stone bursts into the lobby. His voice bouncing off each marble surface, he announces to everybody and nobody, 'We're in f***ing Claridge's.'It's Saturday January 17, 2004, and it's 2.30am. Kate Moss's 30th birthday party is in full swing.
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