What is the problem with going to Hell? I mean, really? Ned is going to Hell. All his friends are going to Hell. The vast majority of the population, and Ned is talking globally, is going to Hell. The Frightened simply need to understand that they will be in jolly good company. With far, far fewer moralisers telling them how to behave. Of course, the odd demon or fiend, even Beelzebub himself, may attempt to impale us on a spit, so to create a discomforting rotisserie, or dunk us, strapped in an uncomfortably hard chair, into a lake of boiling sulphur, or remove and devour our internal organs, raw, before our very eyes, or stuff us into the mouth of a Very Big Fish, but really, when you think it through, demons and capering fellow travellers haven’t got a shit show. Our sheer number, the vast unholy mass of the Eternally Damned, will soon see the inmates running the institution. If we are not already in charge. Deploying historical perspective, taking into consideration the quality of evildoer already below, it’s hard to imagine self-government not being the case in Hell long before now. Long, long before now.
While the tongue tickers and finger waggers and tight-arsed goody-goodies languish in heaven, bored out of their skulls. Not least because, up top, on high, there are no malefactors to hector.
That’s all for now.
Remember: Cause trouble. And teach your children well.