As you will remember, the Rapture was on Saturday. If you followed my instructions, you are no doubt living it up in Paradise with the rest of us good Christians. However, let's face it, most of you are irredeemable bastards, so I thought I should keep a diary of my experiences since being Raptured. I started the diary at 6pm Saturday, when the blessed event happened. Some of my observations were already shared on Twitter, but this is a more comprehensive, no-holds-barred, frank look at life in Heaven that I hope you find enlightening and instructive as you dodge molten lava and have Satan nibble your earlobes while waiting for the destruction of the universe. Welcome!
BEN POBJIE'S EXCLUSIVE PRIVATE RAPTURE DIARY!
Saturday, 21st May
6.01pm: I feel that travelling at this speed while naked is not healthy. A distinct flapping effect.
6.03pm: From up here, everyone looks like ants. Ironically, the ants look extremely large. Asked David Attenborough why as he floated past on an updraft. He explained that at this height, the ants' natural ascorbic acid creates a prism effect, making them look over three thousand times their actual size. I had a follow-up question but he started accusing me of staring at his "manly jolly-parts", so I didn't press the issue.
6.06pm: Well, here we are. A lot of people standing around looking a bit lost. Everyone covering their crotches with their hands, or magazines. Asked the man next to me where you get the magazines. He looked very shifty and ran away.
6.10pm: Some angels have appeared and given us clothes. In Heaven you get to wear whatever you want, but until we're checked in we all have to wear Jedi robes. There seems to be no explanation for this, but we're all afraid to ask because the head angel looks really mean. Well to be fair he doesn't really look mean but he has a very off-putting mole right between his eyes. So it seems mean to call him mean but I bet he is because that mole would make anyone bitter. The angels are herding us towards the check-in desk.
6.12pm: The concierge here is VERY rude.
6.15pm: Having checked in, we are each given a room. My room is quite nice and has a view of the river (not sure which one). Unfortunately though, everyone has to share a toilet. My toilet is shared with Scott Stapp, the singer from Creed. I foresee this causing problems in future.
6.45pm: Relaxing in the common room. From some of the behaviour here, frankly I am surprised these people got Raptured at all. Kirk Cameron just whispered in my ear that he is "bi-curious". Don't know what to do with this information. Spared having to make decision on the spot because Kirk was distracted by Fred Nile's elephant impression.
7pm: Before dinner was summoned to God's office for post-Rapture debrief. God looks much as I expected he would, but wears horn-rimmed glasses. Also he has the feet of a weasel for some reason. He asked me if I would like some tea, and I accepted, which made him cry. "We have no tea," he kept moaning over and over. It was a bit usnettling, but he got over it, and asked me how I liked Heaven so far. I said it was great, but the towels in my room were a little small. He promised to look into it, but in a very sarcastic tone, so I don't know. I asked him what people in Heaven did for fun. He said chia pets were very popular. We then spent about a minute just sort of staring tenseley at each other. Finally God gave me a kiss and told me he was happy I was there and to see him if I ever needed anything. I asked him for a coffee and he punched me. On the way out of his office I ran into Jesus, who tried to sell me a capgun. I didn't have any money so I couldn't. Jesus called me a girl, but I think he was just over-tired.
7.30pm: Dinner time! We assembled in the mess hall for dinner. Dinner was a little late, which went down badly with some of the Raptured. In particular, George Pell becamse very rambunctious, banging his fork on the table and making loud shrieking noises until a basket of bread was brought to his table. When menus arrived, disappointed to discover that in Heaven you have a choice between two dishes: tuna or devon sandwiches. I asked an angel whether it was the same every night; he said on Friday nights you get a chicken stock cube.
7.45pm: Dinner becoming very tedious. Partly because the tablecloths show such a lack of flair; mainly because I am seated next to the Archangel Gabriel, who has been monopolising the conversation by reciting his list of reasons That 80s Show should be brought back. I tried to break the monotony by asking about his wife, but he didn't even seem to notice me.
8pm: Frankly, this devon is sub-par.
8.21pm: After dinner we adjourn to the recreation area. It is becoming apparent that there is a certain amount of tension between the pre-dead and the Raptured, or "Rapties", as they call us. I was discussing this issue with Guy Sebastian, and he said it was just because Daryl Somers had spent the whole time since he got here naked rubbing himself against the Bronte sisters, but I think it goes deeper. It's racism, IMO.
8.34pm: Cliff Richard is drunk already. He's strutting around the hot tub, telling everyone he's changed his name to Lovepistol von Gigglepants, and demanding chicken Twisties.Jesus is having a word to him, but Cliff keeps poking his belly and making Jesus laugh. I don't know why Jesus is so ticklish.
9pm: Back to my room. It's lights out at 10pm, which seems unfair. And also pointless given that in Heaven everyone has night vision. Trying to program my clock radio, which seems needlessly complicated. I tested the alarm and was nearly frightened to death when a porcelain Virgin Mary shot out the top of the clock and squirted breast milk in my face. Hard to concentrate because of the sound of Scott Stapp gargling in the bathroom. He asked if I wanted to come gargle with him, but I said I didn't actually know what that would entail. He said it would be incredibly painful so I said no.
9.23pm: Just about to turn in for the night when I discovered Rene Goscinny in there. Says he's doing "research" and will be finished soon. Give up and go out drinking with Charlemagne.
9.30pm: Charlemagne is not all he's cracked up to be. Keeps yelling out to women, asking if they want to see his scar. Wasn't so bad until he said it to Jennifer Aniston. Now she thinks I'm a weirdo because I'm his friend.
9.36pm: Heaven's drinks selection is incredibly limited. There are only three brands of beer, or milk. Admittedly up here milk gives you superpowers, but still.
9.57pm: Cliff Richard has reached the maudlin stage. Keeps telling me I remind him of his mother and asking me if I'll go on a rowboating holiday with him. Said yes just to shut him up, hope he doesn't remember this tomorrow.
10.34pm: Back in my room. Stapp STILL gargling! Has he been doing it non-stop? He must have taken at least a short break, because he is now wearing a cowboy outfit. Asked him why, he said "Jesus told me to". If we weren't in Heaven would be inclined to disbelieve this.
10.39pm: Goscinny still in my bed. Refuses to get out. Says if I get in "just to cuddle", he'll put me in the new Asterix book. Why do people lie so much in Heaven?
11pm: Can't sleep. Miranda Devine throwing pebbles at my window.
11.03pm: Miranda will not give up. Has started yelling, asking if I want "Seven Minutes In Heaven". Leaned out to tell her how inappaopriate this was, and saw things I never want to see again.
11.34pm: Finally asleep. Not sure how I'm writing this. It's a Heaven thing I guess.
Sunday, 22nd May
3am: Had a fright. Turns out Heaven has a rule where seraphs get free access to all mini-bars. Woke up to a bunch of angels fighting over a can of Pepsi and a Kit-Kat.
7am: Woken up by Jesus storming into the bedroom, banging a saucepan with a spoon and screaming "On your feet, Cocks!" No idea why, since once we were up he just made us stand in a field for an hour. Asked him what we were supposed to be doing, he said, "Looking for animal shapes in the clouds". Didn't feel I could ask any more questions after that.
8.30am: Breakfast time. Everyone gets rice bubbles. I asked if I could have some honey, but the waitress just laughed. Seemed strange, but then I realised the waitress was Katharine Hepburn, which made a lot more sense.
9am: Had some free time, so wandered about the place taking stock. There are some lovely landscaped gardens in Heaven, though I feel they should install some surveillance cameras given the number of drug deals being done openly about the place. Passed a bush where Elvis and Marie Curie were frantically copulating. Found this less strange than I would have expected.
9.24am: Not surprised that Mother Teresa is here. A little surprised that she's working the main floor at a motor show.
9.35am: Dropped in on a concert in the park. God encourages musical expression in Heaven, but the only music he likes is Joshua Kadison. This was the subject of quite an argument last night, when Elton John asked if he could put on a show, and God agreed as long as he only played the songs of Joshua Kadison. Elton became very angry, but God won the argument by saying, "I know what you get up to at night", and twisting Elton's nipple really hard. Anyway this morning Elton is playing in the park. The only song he knows is "Jessie", so he's playing that a lot, but his delivery is great. Ironically, Joshua Kadison himself was left behind. Asked Jesus why this was, and he told me it was a "motor skills thing".
10am: Playing netball. This is apparently compulsory in Heaven, seven days a week. God is the umpire. He seems to enjoy the job a little bit too much.
11.30am: Still playing netball. Exhausting.
12am: Finally lunchtime. We don't eat lunch in the mess hall, but rather in Jesus's Dinner Theatre, which means we have to listen to his stand-up while we eat. He's pretty awful - mostly relying on obscene actions with the holes in his hands, and a lot of jokes about Stalin. For some reason he thinks Stalin is incredibly funny. Quite relieved when he finishes and St Peter comes on with his performing puppies.
1.30pm: More netball.
2.30pm: Was ushered into a seminar: "Heaven: Your New Home", where we learned about Heaven. I was sat next to Fred Nile. Tried to strike up a conversation, but he was sulking because Kirk Cameron had put the moves on me and not him. Keeps carving "I H8 Ben" in his desk with a compass. The lecture was very informative though. We found out the system of government in Heaven is basically Republican, where God is the president, Jesus is Prime Minister, and Jane Austen is Foreign Secretary.
2.55pm: Met Jane Austen. Asked her why Heaven needed a Foreign Secretary. She stuck two fingers up my nose and threw me into a wall. "Any more questions, bitch?" she hissed.
3.18pm: Time for the Daily 3.18 Prayers. We all gather on the Prayer Diamond and throw confetti at God while he does burnouts on his motorbike.
4pm. Stopped in for tea with Stephen Hawking. He told me he still doesn't believe in an afterlife. I told him he was in denial. He said he refuses to accept the evidence of his own eyes and will only accept proofs in manila folders. It was weird to hear him talking without his voicebox. I never knew he had a Jamaican accent.
4.58pm: Nasty incident in the common room, Einstein just referred to Archbishop Jensen as "Raptie scum". Jensen pulled a knife and things look like getting ugly.
6pm: We're all in the common room, still shaken after the rumble in the common room. Justin Bieber just got his guitar out and started a singalong of "Beautiful in My Eyes", but our hearts just aren't in it. Einstein's gashed thigh just keeps rising in our brains.
8pm: Dinner still hasn't arrived. Rumours of a chefs' strike are sweeping the hall. Julia Child is said to be demanding greater leave loading. Heston Blumenthal is standing on his table urinating on people. Anarchy looms. Jesus came in to try to keep the peace, but retreated under a blizzard of fortune cookies.
8.28pm: Dinner finally here. We are eating in an atmosphere of sullen rebellion. God wandering round the hall muttering "Second day and already everything's gone to bloody buggery". The Virgin Mary keeps making desperate attempts to lighten the mood with references to Waldorf Salad. Nobody's buying it. Particularly not Prunella Scales, who's been demanding to be return to earth since she got here.
9pm: Retired to bed. Have worked out a system with Goscinny whereby I cuddle him for half an hour, then he has to get into the wardrobe and let me sleep. He says my character's name will be "Beneficix".
9.15pm: Can faintly hear Miranda down the road, yelling at Hugh Grant. Can faintly hear Taylor Hanson in the next room, tattooing his brothers in their sleep. Uncomfortable. Jesus short-sheeted my bed. I think it was retaliation for my mistaking him for Sophie B. Hawkins yesterday.
9.35pm: Finally it's quiet. Feel myself drifting off to sleep, to my great relief, since tomorrow we start "basic training". Not sure what this means, but noticed St Paul squatting outside the information centre fingering a machete. A bit nervous.
Monday, 23rd May
2.46pm: For fuck's sake, that dickhead is gargling AGAIN.