Tony Blair Discovers Theology of Democracy

LONDON — While on his walk this morning, former Prime Minister Tony Blair fell over, had a heart attack, and died because the Accident & Emergency ward at his nearest hospital had just been closed. So his soul arrived in Heaven and he was met by St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.

“Welcome to Heaven,” St. Peter said. “Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a politician 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,” said Blair.

“I’d like to just let you in, but I have orders from God 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,” Blair said.

“I’m sorry but we have our rules and bureaucracy.” Peter said. And, with that, St. Peter escorted him to an elevator and he went down, down, down all the way to Hell. The doors opened and he found himself in the middle of a lush golf course.

The sun was shining in a cloudless sky. The temperature was a perfect 21°C. In the distance was a beautiful club house. Standing in front of it were MPs from all the years of the Great British democracy. There are luminaries who had helped Blair over the years. The whole set of the party leaders from the past were there, everyone laughing, happy, and casually but expensively, dressed. They ran to greet him, to hug him and to reminisce about the good times they had had getting rich at the expense of suckers and peasants. They played a friendly game of golf and then dined on lobster and caviar. The Devil himself came up to Blair with a frosty drink, “Have a tequila and relax, Tony!”

“Uh, I can’t drink any more, I took a pledge,” said Blair, dejectedly. “This is Hell, son. You can drink and eat all you want and not worry. And it just gets better from there!”

So Blair took the drink and found himself liking the Devil, who he thought was a really very friendly bloke who tells funny jokes like himself and pulls hilarious nasty pranks, like the ones he and Hewitt pulled with the NHS and with Kelly on Education. They were having such a great time that, before he realised it, it was time to go. Everyone gave him a big hug and waved as Blair stepped on the elevator and headed upward. When the elevator door reopened, he was in Heaven again and St. Peter was waiting for him.

“Now it’s time to visit Heaven,” the old man said, opening the gate.

So for 24 hours Blair wsa made to hang out with a bunch of honest, good-natured people who enjoyed each other’s company, talked about things other than money and treated each other decently. Not a nasty prank or egotistical remark among them. No fancy country clubs here and, while the food tasted great, it was not caviar nor lobster. Surprisingly these people were all poor. He didn’t see anybody he knew and he wasn’t even treated like someone special!

“Whoa!” he said to himself. “Mandelson never prepared me for this!”

The day done, St. Peter returned and, with the “Deal or No Deal” theme playing softly in the background, said, “Well, you’ve spent a day in Hell and a day in Heaven. Now you must choose where you want to live for eternity.”

Blair reflected for a minute, then answered, “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 escorted him to the elevator and he went down, down, down, all the way to Hell. The doors of the elevator opened and he was in the middle of a concrete jungle covered with garbage and toxic industrial waste, rather like the eroded, infested areas that Prescott created in the housing blight of the South East. He was 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 were groaning and moaning in pain, faces and hands black with grime.

The Devil came over to Blair and put an arm around his shoulder. “I don’t understand,” stammered a shocked Blair, “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 looked at him, smiled slyly and slurred, “Yesterday we were campaigning; today we’ve got your vote.”

[Submitted by Faliero]