Paris the Korea Girl

[In which Paris Hilton, glued back together and reanimated after her previous adventure, makes herself useful for once]

So I'm sharing a baked potato
With a North Korean dictator.
Sent by the CIA to convey
Top secret security data.
When they told me to meet with Kim,
I pictured a lady tall and thin.
Instead here I am with a toad-like man:
All glasses and oily skin.

"I know why you're here, Miss Hilton,"
He smiles as he shoots some children.
"You're trying to ban the nuclear program
I'm oh-so-carefully building.
But you and your friend Nicole Richie
Are nothing but slutty and bitchy.
You carry no weight in this communist state
And your perfume is making me itchy."

"Now come along Mr Jong-il,"
I laugh and knock back a strong pill.
"If my elegant scent won't make you relent,
Then maybe my latest song will."
But as I get up and gyrate,
My chihuahua begins to vibrate.
Then jumps on Kim's lap and blows him to crap,
Leaving just a foul head on a plate.

Anything But Keane

[In which heiress with the leastess Paris Hilton is punished severely for her unspeakable crimes against humanity]

And so Paris Hilton was sent to the chair
Bemoaning the fact she had nothing to wear.
The guards had shaved off all her lovely blonde hair
But worse was the cruel fate awaiting her there.

Instead of employing electrical means
To fry this annoying society queen,
They'd torture her with introspective paeans
The music began and she started to scream:

"Please, no, anything but Keane!
I'd rather be stuck in a threshing machine!
I want to be back in my big limousine.
Giving some sleazy guy peaches and cream.

Their songs are so dismal and dreary and drab;
The sweaty lead singer resembles a crab.
They're the audio equivalent of picking a scab;
Can't you just give me a quick lethal jab?"

The CD ran through a selection of tunes
As three hooded figures walked into the room.
And slowly removed their mysterious costumes,
Causing poor Paris to shriek like a loon:

"Please, no, anyone but Keane!
This is like some sort of horrible dream!
I realise now I've been selfish and mean
But promise in future I'll be less obscene!"

Such passionate remorse could not be ignored
By the fair-minded folk on the prison board.
So Paris was spared Keane's final encore
And chopped into bits with a samurai sword.