3 December 2006
Fascinating Festive Fact #3 - Forty-three per cent of Swedish Christians do not believe in Hell
Cliff says:
Among Swedish Christians who considered themselves "active faithful", 47 percent answered that they did not believe in hell, while 18 percent were uncertain. 53 percent do not believe that Satan exists. [source]
Considering its proximity to the North Pole and its affinity for death metal, I find this surprising.
Hell, Christmas Eve
Satan looks downhearted
"What gives, 'bub?" Chris de Burgh's voice resonated above the eternally damned.
"You know," said Satan, "this Christmas business. It's just not my thing."
"He didn't write back, huh?"
The Evil One looked up to earth's surface and sighed. "Every year I send a letter to the North Pole and I never get anything."
"Well, I hate to tell you this..."
Satan looked down hopefully.
"... but maybe there is some truth to this 'naughty list' thing."
"But I've tried to be good."
Chris de Burgh smoothed down his eyebrows. He could see this was going to be a tricky one.
"But it's just not in your nature. You've got to be yourself. Go your own way. Remember that? Fleetwood Mac?"
Satan picked up an estate agent and wiped his nose on the back of the nylon lapels. "They played that song at my birthday. That Stevie Nicks. Hoo-weee. I tell you. If I weren't six thousand years old..."
"You're a not a nice guy. How have you actually helped anyone in the last twenty years?"
"I dunno. Windows XP?"
Chris de Burgh gave him a look of sympathetic admonishment.
"All right," said Satan, "but I've tried to be good, but people see the downside of everything. Sunny Delight, Westlife, reality television, office jargon. A lot of people love that stuff. You didn't happen overnight, either."
"And sprouts and Slade were a good try, but they aren't everyone's cup of tea. You need to do something that everyone likes. A PR job. Do some good work, get yourself on Oprah, adopt a kid from one of those countries, you know - those places you're always visiting anyway. Pick one up on the way through."
"You know, you're right," said Satan. "I'll call our travel division."
He picked up a phone, dialled a number, waited a bit, then smiled to Chris de Burgh, who looked back puzzled.
"Automated phone menus," Satan explained, "remember that day?"
He punched a few more numbers and said, "Yeah, hi, um... this is Satan on extension 666 down in Hell? I need to adopt a kid. Yes. From New Orleans, preferably. They've what? Oh. That was fast. Hmmm. Where's fucked at the moment? Perfect - can you get me on the next flight? Easyjet, yes."
He hung up the phone.
"Well?" asked Chris de Burgh.
"We're going to Kandahar."
"I'll call Oprah."
"Merry Christmas, Chris de Burgh."
"Merry Christmas, Satan."