Paris Hilton, Paris, France---Caught with her guardian down, the always ubiquitous Paris Hilton, in a plea to a cop, has said she wants to cop a plea.
"I'm innocent until proven guilty. What have I done, officer?"
"DUI" she repeats.
"But what was I doing?" she politely repeats.
"You were driving under the influence," he calmly explains to her.
"I was under the influence?" she asks again sounding astounded.
"You didn't know what you were doing."
"I never know what I was doing."
"That's a crime."
"You can't do it. That's the law."
"I don't like the law. It isn't fair. It wasn't me," she protests. "Perhaps if you frisk me. I can get all giddy and surrender peacefully."
"No can do."
"I like playing cops and robbers," Paris offers as a helpful suggestion.
"No can do. We're going to have to book you and take a mug shut."
Paris, "I'm going to need makeup and wardrobe."
"You're allowed one call. Make it quick."
"Mommy. Daddy. Help. There's this mean policeman who thinks I'm a criminal. Mommy. Daddy. Help. Talk to him." To arresting officer, "I don't smoke, curse or hang out with bad boys. Can't you cut me a break?"
The officer finds some weed in her purse. "What's this?" he asks holding up the gange, then escorts her to the pokey wagon. As they drive off, Paris shouts to the crowd, "Watch for my next role. Paris Hilton, Pet Detective."