Heaven or hell?
An ex Prime Minister - who shall remain nameless - dies.
Her soul arrives at heaven's gate.
"Welcome," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, there is a slight problem. We
seldom see someone with your - er - history here. We aren't sure what to do with you."
"There's no problem, just let me in," she says, "This lady's not for turning back."
"I'd like to, but I have orders from higher up. We'll have you spend one day in
Hell and one in Heaven. Then you can decide where you should spend eternity."
"Really, I've made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven," says the ex Prime Minister.
"I'm sorry. Orders." insists St.Peter as he escorts her to the lift. She goes down,
down, down to Hell.
The doors open. She finds herself on the smooth green lawn of a magnificent stately home.
It is a gloriously warm, sunny spring day.
Peacocks strut around and in the distance is a stunningly beautiful lake nestling between
gently sloping, wooded hillsides. There are all her passed-on friends and other
VIPs. Everyone is in evening dress, being waited upon hand and foot by white gloved
servants.
They greet her and reminisce about the good times, getting rich at the expense
of the people. They play a friendly game of croquet. They dine on grapes, caviar,
smoked salmon, fine wine and cheeses - all the most delicious things.
The Devil is a very charming man who makes sure everyone has a good time, he
dances and tells jokes.
Before the ex Prime Minister realises it, it is time to go. Everyone gives her
a big hug and waves while the lift rises. The Devil wipes a parting tear from his eye.
The lift goes up, up, up, and the door opens. St.Peter is waiting. "Now it's time
to visit Heaven."
The ex Prime Minister joins a group of joyful souls moving from cloud to cloud,
playing the harp and singing. She is so contented that before she realizes it, the
day has gone by.
St. Peter returns. "Well then, you've spent a day in Hell and another in Heaven.
Now, choose the place where you want to spend eternity."
She reflects for a minute, "I never thought I'd have said it. Heaven has been
delightful, but I think I would be more at home in Hell."
Saint Peter escorts her to the lift, and once more she goes down, down, down to Hell.
The doors open. She is in the midst of a barren land covered in waste. The stately
home is gone, the beautiful lake is a cesspit. She sees all
her friends dressed in rags, picking up rubbish and putting it in black bags.
It is hot, hot, hot. Sweltering hot. Hot, dusty and miserable. Demons torment the
unfortunates with whips and red hot branding irons.
The Devil comes over and prods her painfully with his pitchfork.
"I don't understand," stammers the ex Prime Minister. "Yesterday, I was here. There
was a stately home, it was spring. We ate a fine dinner. We danced. Now there is
nothing but filth everywhere. My friends are being treated so cruelly; this is a
terrible place."
"Well - yesterday we were campaigning," the Devil smiles...
..."and today you voted for us."
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