It was the new Super Fast Train and halfway through the journey there was a violent vibration.
Passenger: “What was the trouble back there? I thought this was supposed to be a smooth ride.”
Porter: “Sorry, Sir. We ran over a politician.”
Passenger: “Goodness! What was he doing on the tracks?”
Porter: “Oh, he wasn’t on the tracks Sir, but we got him.”
Al Gore is out jogging one morning, notices a little boy on the corner with a box. Curious, he runs over to the child.
Al Gore: “What’s in the box, kid?”
Little boy: “Kittens, they’re brand new kittens.”
Al Gore: “What kind of kittens are they?”
Little boy: “Democrats,”
Al Gore: “Oh, that’s cute.”
A couple of days later, Al Gore is running with his buddy Bill Clinton and he spies the same boy with his box just ahead. Al says to Bill, “You gotta check this out,” and they both jog over to the boy with the box.
Al Gore: “Look in the box Bill, isn’t that cute? Look at those little kittens. Hey, kid, tell my friend Bill what kind of kittens they are.”
Little boy: “They’re Republicans.”
Al Gore: “Whoa! I came by here the other day and you said they were Democrats. What’s up?”
Little Boy: “Well, their eyes are open now.”
A politician dies and appears in front of the pearly gates. Saint Peter looks at him for a second, flicks through his book, and finds his name.
Saint Peter: “So, you’re a politician…”
Politician: “Yes, is that a problem?”
Saint Peter: “ Oh no, no problem. But we’ve recently adopted a new system for people in your line of work, and unfortunately you will have to spend a day in Hell. After that however, you’re free to choose where you want to spend eternity!”
Politician: “Wait, I have to spend a day in Hell?!”
Saint Peter: “Those are the rules.”
(St Peter, clicks his fingers, and WOOMPH, the guy disappears)
Later the politician awakes, curled up with his hands over his eyes, knowing he’s in Hell.
Satan: “Open your eyes! We’ve only got 24 hours!”
The politician nervously, uncovers his eyes, looks around, and sees he’s in a hotel room. A nice one too. Wait, this is a penthouse suite… And there’s a smiling man in a suit, holding a martini.
Politician: “Who are you??”
Satan: “Well, I’m Satan! Welcome to Hell” (handing him the drink and helping him to his feet).
Politician: “Wait, this is Hell? But…where’s all the pain and suffering?”
Satan: “Oh, we’ve been a bit misrepresented over the years, it’s a long story. Anyway, this is your room! The minibar is of course free, as is the room service, there’s extra towels next to the hot-tub, and if you need anything, just call reception. But enough of this! It’s a beautiful day, and if you’d care to look outside…..”
(After 24-hours, the politician is woken up by St Peter).
Politician: “So, that was Hell.
Saint Peter: “Wasn’t what you were expecting, I bet?” So then, you can make your choice. It’s Hell, which you saw, or Heaven, which has choral singing, talking to God, white robes, and so on.”
Politician: “Well… I know this sounds strange, but on balance, I think I’d prefer Hell,”
Saint Peter: “Not a problem, we totally understand! Enjoy!” (And clicks his fingers again)
The politician wakes up in total darkness, the stench of ammonia filling the air and distant screams the only noise. As he adjusts, he can see the only light is from belches of flame far away, illuminating the ragged remains of people being tortured or burning in a sulphurous ocean. A sudden bolt of lightning reveals Satan next to him, wearing the same suit as before and grinning, holding a soldering iron in one hand and a coil of razor-wire in the other.
Politician: “What’s this? Where’s the hotel? Where’s the minibar, the golf-courses, the pool, the restaurant, the free drinks and the sunshine???”
Satan: “Ahhh, you see, yesterday, we were campaigning. But today, you voted.”