I suspect I might be something of an Evil Genius

I have recently discovered, courtesy of this excelllently funny website, that Paris Hilton REALLY REALLY wants to get married in St. Paul's Cathedral, London. But they won't let her, because she's way too fat and doesn't wear enough tiaras. Or something.

I, however, AM allowed to get married in St. Paul's, because my Dad is a Commander of the British Empire as of about a month ago. Yes, it is true, I am The Commander's Daughter.

So. I've got a really good Plan, right? I will be needing your help on this so listen carefully. Alright, READ carefully, then, you pedant. Just pay attention, ok? (shakes head wearily) God.

What we're going to do is spread a Rumour. It may not sound like a massively powerful Plan at first, but I have Faith. I am also quite hungry, but we'll bypass that for now.
The Rumour will go something like this.

Tell Paris Hilton that I want to marry her, and I am willing to do so in St Paul's.

I KNOW! It's genius isn't it? And easy, too, because I know some people who live in America, and it's quite a small country so I'm sure they'll be able to pass on The Rumour (except they would call it a Rumor, right? They don't like the letter U over there. Except in USA. Hmm... note to self: work on the 'Americans don't like the letter U' theory) without too much difficulty. A suggestion would be to make a big sign and stick it over that Hollywood one, or write it underneath the McDonald's employees' names on the badges (above the stars), so everyone in the country will see it.

Paris will approach me. I give it one, maybe two weeks at a push to get to this stage.

She will want to marry me, believing (because of the Rumour, of course, KEEP UP WILL YOU?) that I am happy to marry her because I love her and am willing to do anything to win access to her sparkly hair accessories and vats of fake tan.

And I will AGREE TO MARRY HER! Yes.

(This is where the plan gets a bit on the clever side)

For a million squillion dollars.

HA!

(I'm so clever)

She will reluctantly but resignedly hand over the cash (I will insist on cash, of course). At which point I will run really REALLY fast to the getaway helicopter and escape to Mexico.

Which is where you come in again.

If you have a helicopter, you are going to be ESSENTIAL for this heist, so please contact me urgently in the comments section of this blog. I promise I will give you some of the profits, or at least buy you some fuel and a little flag to put on the front of your helicopter.

If you do not have a helicopter I'm afraid you are of absolutely no use to me whatsoever, but you are welcome to come and visit me in Mexico where I will be happy to buy you a small burrito and a shot of tequila.

You see? Genius.