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Hell exists: official Hell exists: official

 

A special report by our woman astride the space-time continuum, Miranda Givings

Despite comforting messages from beyond the grave served up by clairvoyant tea ladies, or the stout denials of woolly-minded clergyman determined to erase any trace of partiality from the Church — Utterpants can exclusively reveal that Hieronymous Bosch got it right; hell not only exists — it is where most of us are going

In a triumph of technology over superstition, an intrepid news team from Channel 5, armed only with the very latest, top secret, trans-dimensional travelling technology, reinforced underpants and a generous helping of British spunk, entered the dread Kingdom of the Prince of Darkness at 17.32 BST yesterday. The leader of the expedition, Nick Postlethwaite — a bluff Yorkshireman from Cleckheaton and discoverer of the Giant Troll of Tadcaster — shared his amazing scoop with Utterpants.

"We'd 'eard rumours for sum time from miners still digging coal out of Grimwith's Bottom that summat didn't smell reet. When George Skipton's missus wus taken by a bloke wi' 'orns and a barbed tail I knew we wus dealin' wi' summat unnatural. So when Channel 5 got their hands on this new Taiwanese trans-dimensional gear, I jumped at the chance to poke around in Grimwith's Bottom."
"Astonishing!" We replied. "So what's his bottom, er—we mean Hell, really like?"

"Trust me, ee don't want to go thur," said the shaken explorer. "The first dead bloke we came across told us he'd lost everything. 'is wife, 'is job, 'is health, and a rilly hot fifteen-year-old bit on't side. So he threw himself in front of the 14.20 Harrogate express. Next minute ee was up to 'is waist in a lake o' boiling piss. No sooner had he climbed out o' that than ee had to cross a river of shite and face a freezing cold shower of rancid vomit. The bugger were so depressed ee told us e'd never have committed suicide if he'd known what was in store for him in Hell."

A horny little devilSo — suicide's not a good idea, then?" we asked.
"Happen thou's reet miss. 'Tis about as clever as coveting your neighbour's ass," replied Postlethwaite glumly.
"What about cheating on your husband — say with his best friend; hypothetically speaking?" our reporter asked casually.
"Up there wi' labial piercing and anal sex, I'm afraid."
"Labial piercing?" asked our reporter, hastily pulling down her skirt and crossing her legs.

"I know," said the brave explorer in a pained voice. "It frightened the life out of Gemma — our sound recordist. "I'll never forget those screams.."
"Screams?"
"What d'you except when a trainee succubus who's last life was spent as a eunuch on the island of Lesbos around BC 60 got 'is hands on little Gemma— compassion for 'is former mistress?"

"So what's the real biggie," we asked, "the truly unforgiveable sin?"
"You'll never believe it — we didn't."
"Go on; surprise us."
"Ignorance."
"Ignorance of what?"
"Pretty much everything as far as we could work out, but mostly ignorance of the Big, all-seeing Woman with the really bright face."
"Pardon?"
"God — the Creator."

"God is a WOMAN!?"
"Eee! It's a reet bugger in't it? All those millennia of sucking up to a bloke wi' a white beard and mekkin wimmen walk three feet behind us and it turns out God's a reely fit lookin', all-knowing lass wi' a very dry sense o' humour."
"Humour?"
"Why d'you think she gave women a tiny prick and multiple orgasms and blokes a reet big 'un that goes off at 'alf cock when you least expect it?"
"Good point," admitted our reporter.

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© 2004 utterpants.co.uk

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