It has already been established that Sotonians, at least the ones that post here, aren’t a particularly religious bunch. If we’re wrong, eternal damnation may well await. While rack torture, red hot pokers and unending torment doesn’t sound too great, I did think of a bright side.
I mean, a hypothetically extant Hell would be a pretty broad church. We could meet celebrities, and like myself, I’m sure many of them would be more entertaining in that context.
Where would you rather see Peter Mandelson, for example? On a plush couch talking bollocks to Andrew Neill, or chained to a rack and having his nipples sliced off (and sewn back on) for all eternity?
So assuming some kind of perpetual post-life punishment is in order for bad boys and girls, the questions for you are:-
Who’s going to hell?
Why are they deserving?
What should happen to them?
Sounds hard, but is actually a doddle.
e.g.
1) Danny Dyer 2) Them awful hooligan vids he does 3) Lock him up with them awful hooligans, without his minders.
…mind you, she will be reeping her reward as the cloven hoofed fucker lets his evil offspring suck his giant rancid cock in an incestuous orgy as they laugh in orgasmic rapture at the feckers who voted for her …
The annoying thing about Edmonds is that he actually gets paid in recognition of being a twat. He’s one of the faces of Lotto’s “don’t let it be them campaign”.
I’m with you on the choice and reason for it, but I think the punishment is too mild. Let’s go all Promethean: he gets buggered by Mr Blobby all day long until his arse is ripped to shreds; overnight his arse is restored to its previous condition, and the next day the whole process starts all over again.
Getting Saints relegated. Overuse of word “triffic”. Media whore.
To eternally be a pedestrian in a busy supermarket car park. Every driver pulls up beside you and winds the window down. They are all also Harry Redknapp. They say nothing but “triffic”.
Close, but he should have his eyelids removed (very Jean-Paul Sartre, that) and be made to watch Saints victories over Pompey on an endless loop. Or maybe just Steve Moran’s 1984 goal against them at Fratton Park in the FA Cup. Over and over and over for ever.
Sat in a room with no windows and doors, listening to Gemma Collins talk about how fabulous she is, even though she’s a thick, fat, interfering cunt.
Sat in a room, with no windows and doors listening to Gemma Collins talk about how fabulous she is, even though she’s a thick, fat, interfering cunt.
I’m too cool to know who any of these cunts are.
Unfortunately the other half watches it (dont ask - I believe KRG also has the problem where intelligent other halves watch mind-numbingly stupid television).