Sir Nutkin was sound asleep in his four poster bed in his luxurious holiday home. As he slept a strange dream came to him; he dreamt he had died and gone to heaven.
At the gates stood St Peter, Sir Nutkin went to go in; sorry said St Peter you can’t come in; but I am Sir Nutkin he said, his tail bristling. The problem we have said St Peter is that we don’t usually get squirrels of your high rank up here; so we have to follow a procedure. The procedure is that you spend 24hrs in hell and 24hrs in heaven; then you get to choose which you prefer.
So off Sir Nutkin goes to hell, he is met by the amiable devil, better known as Mr Lewis, with a smile and a glass of champagne. All his friends are there, including the Japanese pharmaceuticals.
They have a high old time, charging it all to expenses; alas it is time for Sir Nutkin to take his leave and return to heaven. He had a nice time relaxing and learning to be a liar, Editor: don’t you mean learning to play the lyre?
Anyway his 24hrs were up and he faced St Peter; who asked him for his decision. Sir Nutkin told him, it is nice in heaven but I am used to living the life they live in hell so I vote to go there. So off he went.
When the lift doors opened there was Mr Lewis, better known as the devil, with an evil grin on his face; welcome Sir Nutkin you bucket and shovel are over there. Sir Nutkin saw his friends up to their waists in s–t shovelling for all they were worth.
Sir Nutkin turned to the devil, better known as Mr Lewis, and said it wasn’t like this the last time I came down here; ah said the devil, better known as Mr Lewis, but that was when we were after your vote.
Sir Nutkin awoke with a start, then he realised it was only a dream. But for his constituents the reality still goes on.