Sunday, 2 August 2009

Heaven Or Hell, Gordon?

While on his morning walk, Prime Minister Gordon Brown falls over, has a heart attack and dies because the accident and emergency dept at his nearest hospital is too understaffed to treat him in time.

So his soul arrives in Heaven and he is met by Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates.

"Welcome to Heaven," says Saint Peter, "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a Socialist around these parts, so we're not sure what to do with you."

"No problem, just let me in; I'm a good Christian; I'm a believer," says the PM.

"I'd like to just let you in, but I have orders from Gd Himself. He says that since the implementation of his new HEAVEN CHOICES policy, you have to spend one day in Hell and one day in Heaven. Then you must choose where you'll live for eternity."

"But I've already made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven," replies Brown.

"I'm sorry .. But we have our rules," Peter interjects. And, with that, St. Peter escorts him to an elevator and he goes down, down, down ...all the way to Hell.

The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a lush golf course.
The sun is shining in a cloudless sky. The temperature is a perfect 22C degrees. In the distance is a beautiful club-house. Standing in front of it is Harold Wilson and thousands of other Socialist luminaries who had helped him out over the years --- John Smith, Michael Foot, Jim Callaghan, etc. The whole of the Labour Party leaders were there ..
Everyone laughing, happy, and casually but expensively dressed.

They run to greet him, to hug him and to reminisce about the good times they had getting rich at the expense of 'suckers and peasants.'

They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar.
The Devil himself comes up to Brown with a frosty drink, "Have a tequila and relax, Gord!"

"Uh, I can't drink anymore, I took a pledge," says Brown, dejectedly.
"This is Hell, son. You can drink and eat all you want and not worry and it just gets better from there!"

Brown takes the drink and finds himself liking the Devil, who he thinks is a really very friendly bloke who tells funny jokes like himself and pulls hilarious nasty pranks, kind of like the ones the Labour Party pulled with the European Constitution and the Education, Immigration, Tough on Crime promises.

They are having such a great time that, before he realises it, it's time to go. Everyone gives him a big hug and waves as Brown steps on the elevator and heads upward.

When the elevator door reopens, he is in Heaven again and Saint Peter is waiting for him. "Now it's time to visit Heaven," the old man says, opening the gate.

So for 24 hours Brown is made to hang out with a bunch of honest, good-natured people who enjoy each other's company, talk about things other than money and treat each other decently. Not a nasty prank or short-arse joke among them. No fancy country clubs here and, while the food tastes great, it's not caviar or lobster. And these people are all poor. He doesn't see anybody he knows and he isn't even treated like someone special!

"Whoa," he says uncomfortably to himself. "Harold Wilson never prepared me for this!"

The day done, Saint Peter returns and says, "Well, you've spent a day in Hell and a day in Heaven. Now choose where you want to live for Eternity."

With the 'Deal or No Deal' theme playing softly in the background, Brown reflects for a minute ... Then answers: "Well, I would never have thought I'd say this -- I mean, Heaven has been delightful and all but I really think I belong in Hell with my friends."

So Saint Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to Hell.

The doors of the elevator open and he is in the middle of a barren scorched earth covered with garbage and toxic industrial wasteland, looking a bit like the eroded, rabbit and fox affected Australian outback, but worse and more desolate

He is horrified to see all of his friends, dressed in rags and chained together, picking up the roadside rubbish and putting it into black plastic bags. They are groaning and moaning in pain, faces and hands black with grime.

The Devil comes over to Brown and puts an arm around his shoulder." I don't understand," stammers a shocked Brown, "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and a club-house and we ate lobster and caviar and drank tequila. We lazed around and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and everybody looks miserable!"

The Devil looks at him, smiles slyly and purrs, "Yesterday we were campaigning; today you voted for us!"

Not mine, but apposite.

The Penguin


Anonymous said...

I wonder if there is a kind of 'Kennedy moment' associated with socialism. I mean, do you remember exactly what it was that convinced you that socialism was simply the worst idea that anyone ever had (with the possible exception of putting swivel wheels on all four corners of a supermarket trolley)?

For me, it was the announcement by the County Council that our Grammar schools were to become 'Comprehensives'.

Fausty said...


Sue said...

Excellent and so true!!!

Screech said...

Brilliant, read it somewhere before but it still hasn't lost its truth. Edgar...i have to be fair, with regards to supermarket trolleys, i was in Asda yesterday and they had swivel wheels on all four corners of the one i had and i found i could control it a lot better one handed, so now instead of slumping across the handle as i usually do when the Queer one drags me out on these evil, female invented trips, i just plod along and look at what I want to look at while saying "yeah yeah whatever" when she askes me if i want this or that. It takes practice mate nut its worth it if only to stop a constant ear bashing.

Sequoyah said...

Michael Foot is not dead - yet.

Anonymous said...

saw that years ago about gough whitlam the old aussie pm who was nearly as bad but at least the queen sacked that tosser! still good in any light tho

Anonymous said...

Mohamed was complaining to his workmates that he couldn't get a white girlfriend they told him to become a Christian then he would get all the pussy he wanted. So off he pops to the church to see the chief god botherer. Who gave him a stack of books to read that high when he was carrying them he couldn't see the bus coming that hit him. When he arrived at the pearly gates St Peter was reading the Sun and drinking a cup of tea. He took one look at Mohamed and said what the fuck are you doing here? Mohamed said I'm looking for Jesus. Oh, St Peter said and shouted Jesus, your taxi is here.