<A man dies.

At the famous Pearly Gates he meets Saint Peter. Ol’ Pete digs through his files and comes up with the man’s name and smiled.

“Right on time,” he commended the man.

He stood from his desk and took the new arrival on a Heavenly tour. The man followed the saint as they strolled through the park-like etherworld.

“Over here is where we keep the Protestants,” Saint Peter was saying.

The man looked, and there were thousands of people, all sitting on a grand patio, sipping tea and having polite conversations. The man nodded his approval, and Saint Peter headed down another trail.

“This is where we keep all the Catholics.”

The man looked, and was again met with the sight of thousands of people, all sitting on a grand patio, sipping tea and having polite conversations. The man nodded his approval again, and Saint Peter turned down another path.

“This is where we keep all the Buddhists.”

The man looked, and there they were, literally thousands of people, all sitting on a grand patio, sipping tea and having polite conversations. The man looked at Saint Peter, deciding that it was only fair that Buddhists enjoy tea as much as anybody else, and so Saint Peter led him along another trail.

“This is where we keep all the Muslims.”

The man looked, and was the patio-scene again, with thousands of people sitting around sipping tea and having polite conversations. The man nodded again, and Saint Peter took him down another road. Eventually, they came to a huge, massive structure of dark stone, with a front wall that seemed to extend forever in either direction. Fixed in this wall was a single steel door.

“Wait here,” Saint Peter cautioned the man.

Peter tiptoed up the path to the door and slid a tiny widow open. He then looked over his shoulder to the man and signaled him over.

“What is it?” the man asked.

Saint Peter motioned to the window and the man looked inside. There was a grand patio, with thousands of people all sitting and sipping tea, while carrying on polite conversations. Saint Peter and the man then tiptoed away form the door.

“Hang on,” the man challenged. “I’ve got to know what that was all about.”

“That’s where we keep all the Baptists,” Saint Peter replied, a finger to his lips. “They think they’re the only ones here.”

From my memories of “Dave Allen at Large”.

Cheers,
Dan