Ever Decreasing Circles

I’ve been thinking about Hell a lot of late. Mostly because I haven’t seen my Evil Best Friend Declan in a while. Oh, and because the marvellous Peckham Palace in which I abode (abide?) has further continued its journey into fabulous disrepair by the boiler being flooded.

Exactly how a device that is stapled to the wall in a cupboard on the first floor becomes flooded is another mystery of a house where we keep seeing patches appearing on the wall that look like Cher, but needless to say, with no warmth, the house is now as cold as the Ninth Circle of Hell. Especially when you wake; I’ve been late three times this week simply because I’ve thrown back the duvet to experience an inrush of cold air that can only be exclaimed as “Fuck me!” Oh, and the two lovebirds I’ve trained to whistle Grieg’s Morning Chorus at 7am every morning froze on Tuesday.

Anyway. Hell. I finally got around to checking my contract the other day – you know, the one that proclaims me Ruler of the Known Universe – and in that, it proclaims that I have dominance over some of the Circles of Hell, and have the power to cast some of the more annoying showbiz names into it. Bliss. So here’s my list:

Coldplay
Circle I Limbo

Mary-Kay and Ashley, children of the corn
Circle II Whirling in a Dark & Stormy Wind

The Wachowski Brothers, for not leaving it be
Circle III Mud, Rain, Cold, Hail & Snow

Mick Hucknall
Circle IV Rolling Weights

Pat Sharp
Circle V Stuck in Mud, Mangled

River Styx

Producers of Enterprise, for making pure eye-rot
Circle VI Buried for Eternity

River Phlegyas

50 Cents, the Rumbling Ape
Circle VII Burning Sands

Will Young, the Twittering Ape
Circle IIX Immersed in Excrement

Pingu
Circle IX Frozen in Ice

Design your own hell

Apparently they can get out for personal appearances, etc, but only at a terrible price: they have to nosh off - to completion - Anne Haddy, Matron of Hell.

So, next time you see Will Young on Top of The Pops, you’ll know that’s not a beard he’s growing.