A PR man died and found himself before the Pearly Gates. St Peter looked at him for a while and said: "It's hard to judge in your case. On the one hand you led a pretty good life. You gave to the poor, you comforted the sick, you were a good father and a loyal husband. On the other hand, you were a PR man. It's hard to know where you belong. I'll tell you what, I'll let you decide."
With that, St Pete summoned up a large winged chap dressed all in white. "Hi, I'm Michael. I'll be your guide round heaven today".
So the PR man followed Michael through the gates. On the other side were banks of fluffy white clouds. On each cloud sat a person with a harp. The PR man touched one on the shoulder and said: "What's it like here? What do you do all day?"
"Well, we play a lot of harp music. We sing quite a lot too. It's really great".
"That's it ?"
"Well, yes. But there clouds are really comfortable too. Internal springs, winter heating.."
"I think I'll have a look at the other place now", said the PR man. Outside the gates he found St Peter talking to an unusual looking person dressed in a bright red body stocking and a skull cap. From the top of his skull cap protruded two horns. From the seat of his pants sprang a tail. "This," said St. Peter "is Nick. He'll show you round Hell".
Following Nick down a steep staircase, the PR man reached a high black wall with a red wooden door. Nick struck it three times and it sprang open. On the other side the PR man found a party in full swing. "These are the Hellywood starlets. They'll take care of you" said Nick, waving at a group of the most beautiful girls the PR man had ever seen. Take care of him they did. The party raged on, the drink flowed, the music played, and life seemed pretty sweet.
"Time's up", said Nick. St Peter is expecting us".
"Well, have you decided?" asked St Peter.
"Oh yes. No question" said the PR man.
"Well think it over for a day" said St Peter, and slightly impatiently that's exactly what the PR man did.
"So what will it be?" said St Peter the following morning.
"I've decided on Hell, said the PR man. "I was very impressed by both submissions, but on this occasion you have not been successful. However, I will keep your application on..."
"He's all yours, Nick", said St Peter, walking away.
So the PR man followed his exotic new friend back down to the red door. Nick stood back to let him pass through. Then, suddenly, the PR man felt a hard shove between his shoulder blades. He staggered through the door and it clanged ominously closed behind him.
A hideous, sulphorous stench filled his nostrils. Before him all was gloom, relieved only by a flickering red glow. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he saw he was surrounded by pools of what looked like molten lead. In each pool, weeping and howling, were various characters that he recognised from the party the night before. Around the pool stood a variety of sinister characters, each dressed like his friend Nick, each carrying a sharp, pronged pitchfork with which they were pushing back the miserable inhabitants of the pools.
"But....", said the PR man, turning to Old Nick, it wasn't like this yesterday".
"Ah ha!" replied his devilish friend. "You're a PR man. You should understand. Yesterday you were a prospect. Today you are a client".