Fame. It's a double-edged sword that can make you or destroy you. Desperate people chase it while others have it thrust upon them. Most celebrities, if they are truthful, will admit that apart from getting you a good seat in a restaurant or skipping a velvet rope queue into a nightclub, it's not worth much else. This is especially true in Ireland, where you can be famous and not have the riches to accompany it.

In the empty world of B-list Irish celebrities, tragic Katy French burned briefly and brightly. The beautiful model finally got what she wanted -- the front page of every newspaper and magazine for weeks on end -- but it cost her her life. And now that life is the subject of a new book called The Last Days Of Katy French by Jason O'Toole.

In the shallow and murky milieu of shadowy nightclubs, cheap cocaine, expensive champagne and false friendships, Katy pulled herself up by her bra straps to the top of the clamouring pile.

She beat off opposition from other Irish "celebs", but was still racked by insecurity and self-doubt. At the height of her celebrity she was even afraid that nobody -- especially her fellow models -- would turn up to her glamorous 24th birthday party in Krystle nightclub, in Dublin.

She had probably been right to worry as only two models -- Michele McGrath and Sara Kavanagh -- arrived on the night. Some said it sent the insecure Katy into a downward spiral. Katy believed many other models were jealous of her hogging the limelight.

Katy had craved fame since she first blagged her way into a nightclub at just 16 and then landed a contract with the Assets model agency. She would pose in a bikini on Grafton Street, across a table in her then fiancee Marcus Sweeney's restaurant wearing skimpy lingerie, or fling herself into a fountain during a photoshoot, claiming she had fallen over.

Gavin Lambe Murphy was her first live-in boyfriend and for a while they were high on the invitation lists to all of Dublin's top social functions, populated by the so-called beautiful people. Here, old money mixed with no-money and those who just wanted to be seen out and about basking in dayglo lights. And on a good night they could look forward to having their pictures in the social diaries the next day. The fact that Lambe Murphy later came out as being gay showed just how far the beautiful Katy was determined to go to get the attention she craved.

Katy later became the number one model for decorative purposes whenever celebrities like Calum Best came to Ireland for the opening of a new nightclub, or a celebrity shoot for whatever you're having yourself. She later claimed that everybody from the young Best to singer Robbie Williams had tried to seduce her. Katy wore it all like some bizarre badge of honour.

In his book O'Toole says that while Katy claimed not to be interested in dating celebrities, she did admit to fancying Irish actor Stewart Townsend and rugby international Gordon D'Arcy, who she said was "cute". Sadly, it all ended in tears and tragedy as Katy passed away almost exactly two years ago. She took ill at the home of friend Kieron "Wolf" Ducie, who drove her to hospital some hours later where she slipped into a coma and died a few days afterwards.

There was an outpouring of grief, recriminations threatened, and calls for a clampdown on drug use in the golden circle of clubs, race outings and glitzy balls and parties. In the end, it amounted to nothing. Sticky stuff was smeared on toilet cisterns in bars and clubs to stop cokeheads chopping out their lines. Others died from taking bad coke, but their names were soon forgotten. Katy remained in the spotlight.

Social and showbiz journalists wrote countless eulogies to the model. They clamoured for interviews with her family and any of her pals, nearly all of whom closed ranks and refused to speak. Now, two years after her death, comes the controversial new book. O'Toole previously worked for Hot Press, and did an extensive interview with her for that magazine. But he certainly wasn't a friend and had only briefly met her as far as we know.

He previously wrote a book on Brian Cowen and another on notorious Irish criminals, and briefly hit the headlines for conducting an interview with John Gilligan in prison. He has a reputation for hard-hitting interviews.

None of her still-grieving family or friends co-operated with O'Toole, the exception being Ducie, a rough-hewn man in the haulage business who seems to have spent most of his adult life craving the oxygen of publicity. . . just like Katy, in fact. Ray Senior of the VIP photo agency also contributed.

It makes for quite a depressing read as her short life is pieced together with input from hardly any of the people who really mattered in her life. The whole tawdry affair being dragged up all over again can only serve to upset Katy's family.

The book has no startling new revelations, but O'Toole does claim that the model's flash car and apartment were on loan, and her designer clothes were either presents or given to her by designers who hoped she would be snapped wearing them.

The story that has outlived her is unlikely to be the one for which she would have wanted to be remembered. Hers is the tale of a good girl gone bad. An extremely intelligent young woman who fell in with a bad crowd, believed in her own publicity and had a last dance with the devil's dandruff. She could have done so much more with her life if she had the chance to live it.

O'Toole finally confirms how Katy colluded with certain photographers to set up "exclusive" shots of her around town. So-called paparazzi pics would be taken of her inside sex shops looking at the toys on display, or selecting saucy lingerie in Ann Summers. All were staged to keep her in the limelight. It was a simple arrangement -- Katy got her picture in the paper and the snappers got paid for the pics.

The book is well written and non-judgmental, but the trouble is we've read most of it before, or heard the rumours.

Eventually Katy tied herself up in knots by first stating in an interview that she had never used cocaine, and then admitting that she had when she was told that some photographers had pictures of her using it. She sank deeper into using drink and drugs to blot it all out. She admitted: "It's not easy courting the media. Some days you're the bug and some days you're the windshield. The papers continually upset me, but I'm kind of my own publicist. I'm only 24 and I don't always know what is the right PR way to do things. I'm no Max Clifford."

The Last Days Of Katy French certainly lifts the lid on the so-called glamour world of modelling, VIP nightclubs, first nights, receptions and parties. It's a salutory warning to all wannabes. Maybe the book should be required reading on the Leaving Certificate curriculum. If anything, its main function is as a warning beacon to young people. The old cliché about being careful what you wish for as you just might get it never applied as much as it did to Katy French.

- Richie Taylor

Irish Independent