I think Charles Dickens said it best. And while the evocation of his name makes for a strange bedfellow to a drinking fraternity that caroused well over a century later, it could be said that he had the Hollywood Vampires firmly in the crosshairs of his immortal lines. For in an age of over indulgence on every level, it was indeed "The best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, (well, maybe not that bit) it was the age of foolishness."
I'm not sure it's important to name names; they were obviously men of varied talents and a collective oneness that came together under the umbrella of safety in numbers along with a fondness for channeling the ghosts of hedonists past. While it would be presumptuous to liken them to the literary classics of male crash and burn (I'm talking Rimbaud & Verlaine and Shelly & Byron here) they are in fact those reprobates of swinging London (Burton, O' Toole, Ollie Reed & Richard Harris) who are the most likely to strike a pose as the quintessential theatrical mirror image of the Hollywood Vampires...