This is more thought-provoking than theologically correct:
While walking down the street one day a high-ranking Member of the Government is tragically hit by a bus and dies.
His spirit arrives at the Pearly Gates of Heaven and he is met, as one traditionally is in these stories, by St. Peter at the entrance.
'Just a moment,' says St. Peter. 'We seldom see a high official around these parts, but you have been granted a special priviledge. It has been decided that you can spend one day in Hell and one in Heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity.'
'Really, I've already made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven,' says the MP, 'After all, I haven't led a bad life'.
'Hmm,' muses St Peter, 'It takes more than that, you know. Only belief in the blood of Jesus gains admittance here. You had enough time on earth to make up your mind. We're don't normally give people a second chance, let alone a choice. Someone, somewhere, must be really praying for you.'
And with that, St. Peter escorts him to something our American friends call 'the elevator' and he goes down, down, down to Hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.
Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people.
They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and champagne.
Also present is the Devil, who really is a very nice, friendly sort of chap who is in great form dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that before he realizes it, it is time to go.
Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises.
The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him.
'Now it's time to visit Heaven,' says the saint.
So, 24 hours pass with the MP joining a group of contented souls praising God around a great throne which he can see in the distance. The trouble is, there don't seem to be many people he knows, and those he does know he didn't really like on earth. They were the awkward ones, always standing up for 'what is right', and putting principle before their careers. All the praise is in a foreign tongue and he seems to be the only one who can't understand it and join in. Above all, there is an overpowering sense of holiness in heaven which makes him feel uncomfortable. The 24 hours drag by and finally St. Peter returns.
'Well, then, you've spent a day in Hell and another in Heaven. Now choose your eternity.'
The politician reflects for a moment, then he answers: 'Well, I would never have said it before, I mean Heaven is very peaceful, but I think I would be better off in Hell.'
'A good choice in your circumstances,' St. Peter assures him, escorting him to the elevator. He goes down, down, down to hell.
Now the doors of the elevator open and he's in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and rubbish with fires all around.
He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the filth, putting it in bags and tipping it into the incinerators as more falls from above.
The devil comes over to him and grins. 'I don't understand,' stammers the late Secretary of State. 'Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of muck and my friends look miserable. What happened to all the jolity and the fun?'
The devil looks at him, smiles and says, 'Well, you of all people should understand. The day before yesterday we were campaigning, and then yesterday you voted.'