So England gave us mad cow disease, and we gave them Paris Hilton.
A fair trade, pretty much, unless you talk to potential Paris British Best Friend Kat, who simply didn't have the goods to be the ultimate Hilton bestie. Apparently Paris demands more than just blind, unmitigated worship.
Maybe she's looking for someone who's really more like her. You know, with that special quality that she herself posesses in spades. Bitchiness.