Londonist is ever-so slightly flabbergasted this evening. We set out to write a perfectly normal, mid-evening posting, crackling with our trademark wit and satire (no don’t choke into your Chardonnay – it’s so unbecoming). On Paris Hilton of all things.
But we have come up against two hurdles. One is the fact that there is actually no point in trying to write something funny about someone who is a walking parody, who consciously or unconsciously sends herself up with every move she makes and every step she takes. And secondly, there is already so much vitriol about her out there on the internet that we could see no reason to add to it.
Anyway, brace yourself London – love her or loathe her, the affluent, ebullient blonde one is on her way over here. And she wants to be your friend. As reality TV just possibly stoops to a new low, Paris is to round up a gang of wannabe playmates and audition them tortuously over several weeks in front of the millions until she finds a new best buddie. Well, best British buddie that is. Someone sincere who really really wants to be her friend. Cynicism doesn’t even get a look in with this proposal – it’s just appalling. Mesmerisingly appalling. Brilliant. The stuff of totally addictive telly. A work of astounding marketing genius. In fact…
Coo-ee! Paris, we’re over here…
Although perhaps we should simply introduce her to our very own misunderstood blonde.
Flat-pack Paris from Dandy Danny’s flickr stream under the Creative Commons Licence.
