I was present when God interviewed Princess Diana last week for her entry permit to the Kingdom of Heaven. Anticipating the moment, I had wormed into Gods inner circle as His tea-server, and also opened a Swiss bank account for interview sales proceeds. Diana could have met God minutes after the car crash. But she told her friends to inform her biographers that she would rather wait in line - elongated considerably after Bosnia and Somalia - than claim royal privilege.In fact, the delay suited her fine. Sly Di wanted time to tone up at the local gym and order a new outfit for the interview, which took place in God's private chamber. I had just poured Him a hot cup of His favourite Darjeeling when she tiptoed in.God (almost spilling the tea): Oh my God, the Princess herself! You could have sent in the forms with a palace pageboy or some UN peace-keeping official.Diana (fluttering her lashes): But you know I never pull rank. And that's how I raised my boys.God: Sure, I've read about you, William, and Harry slumming with ghetto kids and eating hamburgers at fast-food joints. It's all there in the newspapers.Diana: Oh, but don't believe everything they say. Particularly the salacious bits.God: Come on, Squidgy. You can't hide your peccadilloes from God, can you? We have a detailed dossier on them - complete with paparazzi pictures.Diana: Really? That's scary.God: Don't worry, we won't sell that stuff to the tabloids. It's just for my bedtime reading. We have more ethical ways of balancing the budget.Diana: You mean, besides taxes?God: It's called Tatkal. We got the idea from the Indians who use it to sell phone lines, LPG connections, and medical college seats - all high-demand goods out there. You visited India, didn't you?Diana: Yes, but we never made a call, cooked a meal, or entered a college during the entire trip. I was too busy getting myself photographed, alone and sad, at the Taj Mahal, while Charles was away playing polo or doing something stupid.God: Anyway, our scheme is simple. You bring in enough convertible currency, and you get instant citizenship of this kingdom.Diana: Great! If only the United Kingdom had a similar scheme for Dodi's daddy.God: Where's Dodi, by the way?Diana: Oh, he's in the neighbouring Kingdom of Allah. They gave him an honorary citizenship. Dodi was so thrilled he bought up half the Kingdom and all the department stores in the other half to boost the local economy. Wish I could join him, but the rules prohibit the entry of non-Muslims. Lucky Jemima.God: Pity he's not of Christian faith. We could have used some of Dodi's billions.Diana: You still can. He has offered to finance all your government projects and gift you a Mercedes and a yacht if you let me stay for good in Heaven and allow him unrestricted visiting rights.God: Stay for good in Heaven? I thought you wanted to be reborn as the next Queen of England!Just then, Mother Teresa barged into the chamber with a Latin American dictator in tow. He carried a huge suitcase bulging with dollar notes to Gods desk, stepped back and saluted stiffly. Mother advanced slowly toward God, wagging a menacing finger. ``Now if you don't call up the Pope and get my sainthood proposal okayed by this evening,'' she warned Him, ``I might want to be reborn as Atilla the Nun.''
