In Which The Avenues In Paris Get Slightly Wider

Stripes, hmmm? Suit you.

Schadenfreude can be an unhealthy emotion - but not when the object of it is Paris Hilton. On that thought, please excuse me for a moment........................... ha,ha....ha, ha, ha.....oh, ho, ho, ho, ho....HA, HA, HA, HEE, HEE, HEE....... HA, HA, HA, HA, HA.......FNAAR, FNAAR, FNAAR (gasp for breath)....HO, HO, HO, HAAAAAA!
Oh dear! Laugh? I nearly passed me fags round.
It was shortly after I had woken up this morning and as I was pouring the milk on my Cornies that an image of ickle-wickle Parissy-Warrissy flashed into my mind - an image of that awful excuse for a human being waking
up in a prison cell with some 22-stone, sweaty dyke leaning and leering over her, armed with a toilet brush and a tub of Swarfega! Brace yourself, girl! It's going to hurt you a lot more than it does her!!
At last!! One of the world's plethora of stupid, thick, talentless, degenerate, pox-riddled, spoilt, self-obsessed, so-called "celebrities" gets what's coming to them. Hurrah, says Pither! Buy your way out of this one, shit-for-brains!
For those who think I might be being a tad uncaring, let's not forget why little Paris has been banged up (and not that way, for once). She was caught driving her Bentley (HER Bentley??? You mean daddy's fucking Bentley!!) without a valid licence. Well, the rules don't apply to her, do they? The offence would have been enough for us in the police state which is Britain to have been exiled to Devil's Island but, delight of delights, the faux pas turned out to be a violation of probation imposed for a previous drink-driving offence.
So, she's sentenced to 45 days in jail but would, in fact, have had to serve only 23. I've had fucking hangovers that have lasted longer and gone more days without experiencing a dry fart!! On top of that, I would have relished the prospect of spending around three weeks in the company of sex-starved lesbians but not this spoilt bitch! No. What does she do? She then claims that, like that other fugitive from justice, former Guinness chief executive Ernest Saunders, she is suffering from some sort of serious mental illness and so is released by a fuckwit sheriff after spending just four days behind bars!
Saunders, by the way, escaped his full sentence after claiming that he was suffering from Alzheimer's Disease. In fairness, there is evidence that this was indeed true because today he has absolutely no recollection of anything ever having been wrong with him!
Anyway, Paris runs home to mummy and daddy and is serving out the rest of her sentence lounging around the pool and eating caviar from the pool boy's knob when, guess what? The judge finds out and is on the miffed side of not very happy. He orders her back to court and, amid cries of "No! Shan't! Won't! Will scweam and scweam until I'm sick!", she is driven back in handcuffs (lovely touch!) and ordered to serve not 23 days but the full 45! Hurrah!
Her performance in court was even better, we understand. She blarted all the way through, we are led to believe, kept turning to mummy and daddy and mouthing "I love you" and, when told of her fate, squealed "It's not right!!" and had to be dragged, 'scweaming', from the court. Get with the programme, turd-brain! Life is fucking unfair at the best of times, let alone when you break the law! I haven't broken the law but have been sentenced to life, not without parole but without hair, teeth and the inability to see my shoes when looking straight down in a town which makes any Californian prison look like Liberace's bathroom!
Oh dear. I'm still laughing as I write this.
She's not going to be so popular on the shag circuit when she emerges from prison with a fanny like a wizard's sleeve and more scabs than a Nottinghamshire mining village!
Well, Paris, me little chum, me little swamp duck, you'll no doubt be delighted to know that when you come out of prison you will be spending the rest of your days in Grantham.