Today, while visiting a friend at her workplace bookshop, I had cause (don't ask, I just did, OK?) to pick up Paris Hilton's biography book thing.

Jen, I think I've found your Christmas present.

Setting aside the sterling job the design people did matching the book to the personality - the layout and colour choice is at once both bland and overbearingly tacky - the book is hysterically entertaining, and only slightly in the manner of car crashes. Paris delivers unbeatable advice on places to visit ("Las Vegas is fabulous but gets boring after three days. Don't stay longer than three days in Vegas, no one cool would.") and careers ("The great thing about being an heiress is you don't have to work!") not to mention working lifestyle ("Now, when I go to a party, I'm not just there, I'm there for a reason. I have an agenda, like everyone else!").

But the crowning glory was her advice on boys. Paris Hilton follows The Rules.

I kid you not.

"Never make the first move," she says. "If you have to do more than smile at a guy before he comes over to talk to you, then you're obviously not feeling like you're looking amazing. Go home and start again."

"Don't call him," she continues. "When he's your boyfriend, then you can call him. Otherwise, let him call you."

"Never be easy." (It's in writing!) "If he thinks he's got you, he's gone. Men like a challenge."

And my favourite: "Don't hook up until you're sure he really, really likes you."

I was speechless (with laughter). I had to leave the bookstore because it was in South Yarra and very refined and I was lowering the tone with my convulsive fits of giggles.

So, uh, Jen. Yes? I'm seeing her right between the Rules and Constitutional Law. Bridging the gap, as it were.