In 1962 Frank Sinatra was his best buddy, Marilyn Monroe his best girl, and his brother in law was none other than the President.

21 years later Peter Lawford was an alcoholic, thrice-married recluse. No more Hollywood, no more game shows.

Now he sits alone on Christmas Eve in the Betty Ford Centre, with only a plastic capsule of cocaine, smuggled in via his backside, for company.

Where did it all go wrong?