Look, Sky walker


An angel knocked on the door. He didn’t look like an angel. He carried a slim folder and was wearing a creased blue suit, a tie and a moustache. I suppose that they don’t bother with the whole wings and white robes business these days, due to health and safety considerations. But he said that he was from the Sky.

He enquired about my television viewing habits in a last judgemental way. He seemed appalled that I was satisfied with just five “terrestrial” channels. He explained that if I could shrug off my earthly bonds I would find a bounty of channels straight from the Sky.

In his slim folder he had a selection of pictures of the paradise to come. It mainly involves sport, old films and nature documentaries, which is a probably a bit disappointing if you have lived a chaste and virtuous life.

I explained that I wasn’t really interested in his extra-terrestrial offering and that I was in a bit of a hurry to finish watering my vegetables. He seemed a bit crestfallen at this. He said that he had a team in the neighbourhood who could convert me this week. But I held firm and said that anyway I would have to get a digital telly if I renounced terrestrial delights.

He left on foot looking glum.  I suppose he will get his reward in heaven.

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