OK, here's a scenario.
The Curmudgeon is about to knock on heaven's door. He knows that it's late but hopes that Saint Peter will let him in. As he arrives St Peter is about to lock up:
The Curmudgeon: Whew! Just made it.
Saint Peter: Hold on Sunshine we're closed.
The Curmudgeon: What? Why?
Saint Peter: Sorry but we're full. Where do you hail from?
The Curmudgeon: New Zealand.
Saint Peter: Hey, there's a coincidence! The guy who got the last place was from New Zealand.
The Curmudgeon: Whaaaa...! Was his name Robert?
Saint Peter: Hold on, I'll check. St Peter consults his register. Ummmmm ..... no ... his name was Richard Bagg.
The Curmudgeon: Richard Bagg? You don't mean Richard of Richard's Bass Bag do you?
Saint Peter: Mmmm. He consults the register again. Hard to tell the way you kiwis mumble but that could be right.
The Curmudgeon: But that can't be right. Richard had a place reserved in Hell, or at least that's what Robert told him.
Saint Peter: No, Richard seems to have covered all of his options. I have it down here in the register. He never missed Sunday Mass and helped Father Orange with his sermons.
The Curmudgeon: What the fuck!
Saint Peter: And he never used an exclamation mark when a question mark was required. He ...
The Curmudgeon: Yeah, yeah, he was a grammar saint. What else?
Saint Peter: Well he helped out in the church shop. I have it here that takings went up enormously - or at least that's what he told me.
The Curmudgeon: Did he handle the weekly collection by any chance?
Saint Peter: Yes, I have it here - he volunteered to do that - consulting the ledger again - there were some discrepancies but that was probably an accounting glitch. We don't understand why he had to take the money home to count it though, but, there's dedication for you.
The Curmudgeon: Jesus.
Saint Peter: No, Saint Peter.
The Curmudgeon: Christ!
Saint Peter: No, Jesus Christ, God and that other joker are all away at the moment. I'm the only one left on duty and I need to lock up so if there's nothing else?
The Curmudgeon: Fuck!
Saint Peter: Saint Fuck's nearby. He's helping Richard with his harp lessons. We told him that double basses and violins don't make the grade up here. We're more into harps, banjos, trombones, piano accordions and bagpipes. We've got a hell of a band you know - excuse the pun ha, ha.
The Curmudgeon wanders away.
Saint Peter: Say hello to Nick for me. We went to school together but of course he was in the G classes.
The Curmudgeon: Fuck!