Dear Mr President,
Firstly, congratulations on your historic win. I have never been so behind a candidate for what must be considered the boss of the world.
You seem to be a man of grace and integrity, who would never shirk responsibility in any way.
I'll get to the point.
As I'm sure you are aware, one of your flock has strayed. A Miss Paris Hilton, who is, I believe, a resident of Beverley Hills, is in England doing a reality game show for ITV2 called Paris Hilton's British Best Friend. Fine. I have no problem with that. I don't have to watch. But now it has come to my attention that she has bought a house in North London a few miles from me, and is out and about ingratiating herself with the Great British public.
Mr President. We are not stupid. This is clearly a retaliatory strike for Posh Spice moving to LA. I know it, and you know it, so let's cut the "it's a free country" nonsense and come to some agreement.
I propose an exchange.
This is how it would work. We call them both and tell them that we've found a giant "paparazzi nest", in New York say. (half way home for both of them already)
At first they may be confused that they'd never heard of such a thing before, but the thought of that many photographers in one place will be irresistible.
Once we get them there, while they are having their photos taken (we will have hire a few guys with cameras to make it look good) we will swap their limos around. It's fool proof.
This is a covert operation of which Mr Gordon Brown knows nothing. (I've got him working on finding a synthetic fur for The Queen's guards' bearskin hats.)
Have your people call my people. They may have to call a few times as my people are useless to be honest.