Meanwhile... Is jail hot too Paris?

An edited version of this piece appears here.

In, out and then maybe in again.

No, no that’s not the theme of the next Paris Hilton ‘film’ but the heiress’ on again off again tryst with the slammer which has been getting more attention than Ash-Abhi at Roland Garros (really Abhi we need to talk about you wearing a three piece suit to a tennis match.)

Now, back to Miss. Hilton.

‘I forgot.’

It’s such a wonderful excuse isn’t it? Especially when combined with raised, well shaped eyebrows, wide eyes and for added effect finger tips resting against a perfectly round mouth. It’s even better when used by delinquent celebrities brought before frowning judges. Better but not very believable. Somehow it’s just hard to accept that someone didn’t know or forgot that prostitution/shooting endangered animals/shooting up/driving under influence/driving with a suspended license/wearing a black bra under a white t-shirt is illegal. Even more so when those who claim temporary amnesia have an entire entourage who have been employed to remind them of such things.

Poor Paris Hilton. She obviously didn’t practice her ‘I forgot’ in front of the mirror before she was hauled in to a California court for driving with a suspended license. The heiress was sentenced to 45 days in jail after Judge Michael T. Sauer failed to accept her excuse and claims that her perma-tanned, Persian cat stroking publicist Elliot Mintz told her to go ahead and drive (ok, so all entourages aren’t entirely reliable). Apparently Mother Hilton never used the ‘If your friends tell you to jump off a bridge’ lecture on her daughter. Or the ‘always wear underwear’ lecture for that matter.

Personally I think Paris should have been locked up a long time ago. Now I have nothing against thin, blonde women who drive Bentleys and will one day inherit millions of dollars. But I do have a problem when they decide that shopping, chemical peels and retouching their highlights is getting stale and that it’s time to inflict themselves on society at large. Ever since Paris became the cynosure of the giant, unblinking public eye she has steadily gone on to assault each and every one of our senses. Reality television shows with other rich-(now) thin-sometimes blonde girls, acting (I use the word very loosely of course), writing a handbook on how to be an heiress (I think every mother who bought that book for their pre-teen daughter should be thrown in the slammer with blondie), creating a signature scent, releasing an album which contain the profound lyrics ‘give me a little more room just to prove it to you, what do I gotta do?’, parading about with a number of sweater-vest clad pets including Chihuahuas, ferrets and Nick Carter, trying to get a patent on ‘That’s hot’ and worst of all, going out in public in a leopard printed Alice band and matching sweats. 45 days seems too lenient a sentence if you ask me.

There are those who disagree. The heiress tried tears and apologies, her mother attempted a hissy fit in court and fans took their battle to the internet. A petition was set up by one loyal subject at www.ipetitions.com/petition/PH21781 that beseeched California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger to intervene. The petitioners claimed that Hilton should not serve time as ‘she provides beauty and excitement to our otherwise mundane lives’. My hysterical laughter (apparently echoed at the Governor’s office) was silenced when I saw that tens of thousands of people had added their names to the petition. Compare this to the few hundred people over at the ‘Paris must be jailed’ petition and you’ll understand why we should all despair over the future of this planet.

Paris’ staunch defenders must be overjoyed now that she’s been sent home to serve out the rest of her sentence. Apparently the poor dear was on the very of a mental breakdown which may or may not have been caused by officials forcing her to watch her film The House of Wax on loop. I like how the prison official that made the announcement kept insisting that Paris had been ‘reassigned’ and not ‘released’. I wonder how many other felons get reassigned to multi-million dollar mansions in Beverly Hills that they just happen to own. I have a feeling prison officials had no other choice - the other inmates probably threatened a riot if they didn’t get rid of the person who once said ‘I don’t really think, I just walk’. Who knows, vapidity may be contagious.

Paris will no doubt bounce back from her ordeal like a pair of perky silicone implants. A book about her prison experiences (she and Lord Archer can swap notes), a jail bait chic clothing line, an accessory line in the form of crystal embellished electronic monitoring tags, endorsing memory plus tablets – the opportunities are endless.
Paris, I hope you’ll spend your time in solitary confinement (in prison or in your pool house) wisely, contemplating your comeback. If nothing else, a month spent in the orange boiler suit they’re going to put you in might just wean you off animal prints.