Mulled Vine

“St Peter, I’d like to register a complaint.”

The old man paused from his writing in the Book of Life and raised a quizzical, bushy, white eyebrow at me, “About heaven? Can’t say that has happened to me before.”

I nodded, “Yes, about heaven; I have come across a great injustice: my lifelong friend Joe and I are neighbours, but while he gets to share a room (and who knows what else) with Marilyn Monroe, I got Mrs Froom from up the road! You know, the one with the awful warts!”

He smiled, “Well, you do know that in heaven it is not all about rewards – there are some consequences too: you did some bad things on earth so your “punishment” (we don’t really like to use that word here) is Mrs Froom.”

“But,” I protested, “Joe was certainly no better than me! How come he gets Marilyn Monroe?”

St Peter grinned, “Ah, you see, he is her punishment.”

He sat on a pew with his head in his hands – what was he to do? The church was in desperate need of a paint but the funds were so low and even with his good credit and negotiation skills he only had enough paint for just over half the building. Then suddenly the idea hit him: it was good paint, and he could dilute it to make it stretch; this he did, and proceeded to paint the entire church, finishing just in time before an almighty thunder storm let loose … alas pouring great floods of water over his church, and washing away the diluted paint. He looked aghast at the streams of paint flowing uselessly down the storm drains, and then fell to his knees and shook his fist at the heavens, “Why, Lord?”

Suddenly a great voice answered: “You should have trusted me to provide, my son, now get off your knees, I will provide, so go repaint and thin no more.”

Emma pulled into the shopping centre car park. It was full again – it was always full – and she was desperate. “Oh Lord, please give me parking space. Pleeeease!” Just then a car pulled out in front of her and she continued, “That’s ok, Lord, got one.”

Up in the heavens Gabriel turned to the Almighty Creator of All, “There’s just no pleasing some people, is there?”

The Wisdom of the Ages looked up, slightly forlorn, “I did consider smiting her, but it’s Friday and I don’t like to do any smiting on Fridays – it spoils the weekend.”

What do hippy horses eat?

Hay, man..

You’ll never guess who I bumped into at Specsavers the other day?

Everyone!

A neutron walks into a bar and asks for a beer. The barman gives him a beer. ‘How much will that be?’ asks the neutron. ‘For you?’ replies the bartender, ‘No charge’

I saw six men kicking and punching the mother inlaw, My neighbour said ‘Are you going to help’

I said no six Should be enough!!!!!

Whats E.T. short for.?

Because he has little legs……..

Man walks into a bakers and says ‘is that a cake or a merangue’?.

Boy behind the counter says ‘no you’re right, it’s a cake’.

How does Bob Marley like his doughnuts?

Wi Jammin!

What do Pink Floyd and Princess Diana have in common?

Their last hit was the wall.

Did you hear about the scarecrow that got an honourary degree from Edinburgh University???

He was outstanding in his field!

Father and son are at home watching Father Ted.

Son asks his dad, “Is it true that Ted is dead?”

Father says, “Yes son he is.”

“Is he in Heaven?” asks the son.

Father says, “Of course he is, he’s not a real Priest.”

We love the rain, my daughter and I, particularly when the heavens really let loose and the resulting deluge causes lots of puddles to be formed.

Yes, we are puddle jumpers, and the minute the rain clears a little, sometimes not even then, we will be out there with our Wellington boots and coats, racing like like the little children we are from puddle to puddle and jumping into them; the aim? to SPLASH!!

It is great fun and I would say you should try it, but I don’t puddle jump any more.

I remember it vividly like a recurring nightmare, that fateful day when we were happily puddle jumping, my dearest daughter and I, and we found a most splendid puddle just down the road from us, where the storm drains had apparently blocked.

My little girl ran on ahead and jumped with glee into the middle of the puddle, and disappeared, never to be seen again.

Oh I ran after her and dove into the puddle, only to find it was no more than 20 inches deep, the perfect puddle for jumping, except that it is no fun jumping alone.

He had heard it all before: the guilt ridden confessions, the tales of endless cycles of sordid, iniquitous doings. It was his job and his calling, he was a priest after all. The difference was that in this instance the confessional was empty and he spoke to himself, seeking absolution. But, finding he couldn’t forgive himself or find a suitable penance he took it to his Superior, the Giver of all Laws, and pleaded his case there.

He got a recorded message. It turned out Heaven was closed for essential maintenance.

The little girl stood at the foot of the giant oak tree which for so many years had stood inaccessible, towering, beckoning at the bottom of the family garden.

For years she had stood like today, looking up at the manifold branches, the heavenly stairway of her dreams, but today was different – she could reach the bottom branch, and so she reached up, tentatively at first, before eagerly grabbing the branch firmly and pulling herself up.

She paused a moment, triumphantly, before she resumed her ascent, branch by branch, finally arriving at the top where she peered through the verdant curtain at her beloved world below and shouted with glee, “Look at me!”

The world however did not notice or applaud any of this, preferring to carry on with more important things like making money and wars.

She sighed and sat down, noticing for the first time the neighbours’ cat cowering on the branch besides her, claws embedded firmly in the bark. She stroked the cat who looked up at her hopefully, wondering what all the fuss was about and whether this person was there to feed her.

3 friends die in a car accident and they go to an orientation in heaven. They are all asked, “When you are in your casket and friends and family are talking about you, what would you like them to say?

The first guy says,”I would like to hear them say that I was a great doctor of my time, and a great family man.”

The second guy says, “I would like to hear that I was a wonderful husband and school teacher which made a huge difference in our children of tomorrow.”

The last guy replies, “I would like to hear them say … Look, He’s Moving!

The little girl stood at the foot of the giant oak tree which for so many years had stood inaccessible, towering, beckoning at the bottom of the family garden.

For years she had stood like today, looking up at the manifold branches, the heavenly stairway of her dreams, but today was different – she could reach the bottom branch, and so she reached up, tentatively at first, before eagerly grabbing the branch firmly and pulling herself up.

She paused a moment, triumphantly, before she resumed her ascent, branch by branch, finally arriving at the top where she peered through the verdant curtain at her beloved world below and shouted with glee, “Look at me!”

The world however did not notice or applaud any of this, preferring to carry on with more important things like making money and wars.

She sighed and sat down, noticing for the first time the neighbours’ cat cowering on the branch besides her, claws embedded firmly in the bark. She stroked the cat who looked up at her hopefully, wondering what all the fuss was about and whether this person was there to feed her.

A man dies and mets St. Peter at the Pearly Gates. Peter says to the man, “Here’s how it works. You need to have one hundred points to get into heaven. You tell me about all the good things you’ve done. They are all worth a certain number of points. If your total is one hundred or more, you can come in.”

“Well,” says the man. “I was happily married to the same woman for 52 years. I never looked at another woman. I was attentive and loved her dearly.”

“That’s great,” says St. Peter. “That’ll be two points.”

“Hmmm,” says the man. “This is going to be harder than I thought. Well, I attended church regularly, volunteered my time and tithed faithfully.”

“Wonderful,” says St. Peter, “That’s worth another point.”

“One point!” says the man. “Okay, okay. I was involved with a prison ministry for twenty-five years. I went into the prison, at least monthly, and shared Jesus with them.”

“Wow!” says St. Peter. “That’s another two points!”

“Only two points!” says the man. “At this rate, it’ll be by the grace of God that’ll I’ll ever get into this place.”

“Bingo!” says St. Peter. “That’s one hundred points! Come on in.”