Sounding off: Cyber stairs to heaven

Dear doc, I feel drawn to Abraham's bosom. I'm not talking about my mate Abe, the brickie, whose mammaries - whatever the steroids - hold little appeal for me, nor the pecs of any other bloke.

Please believe me. I'm talking instead about becoming a full member of the Celestial City, you know - where The Big Guy resides. In short, I'm thinking of becoming an angel.

I got the idea recently while surfing the Internet. I realised how easy it was to become a ministering spirit, instead of administering spirit of the 30% proof variety. My problem is deciding which Internet angel enlistment club to join, as there are so many.

The one that appeals most has just been started by the Guardian Angels. That's right, those Tyson-esque 'World Chomp' types who used to patrol the London Underground a few years ago sporting natty red berets. You remember, they used to peacefully intervene where trouble loomed - or, alternatively, they kneed the aggressor in the gonads, giving him three Adam's apples and the option of a Van Gogh ear.

But now I've discovered that they're patrolling the Net on the watch for low-life like paedophiles, then turning them over to the Feds. One of the seamier aspects, if I join, is that I'll have to spend hours in front of my computer, scouring suspect Web sites for mucky pictures.

Mum warned me long ago about the danger of these when she caught me ogling Penthouse under the bed sheets and smacked my legs hard. But I'm over 18 now and, if I join the CyberAngels, as they're called, I can look at porny pictures with a clear conscience - and then drop someone else in it.

I've already got the CyberAngels' Code of Conduct, which says if I find anything offensive I'm not allowed to 'flame' the culprits, but instead must hand them over to the authorities. As an angel, this is a bit disappointing. If I can't occasionally flame someone it probably means zapping them with thunderbolts is barred, too.

Still, at least the US Supreme Court has just ruled that it won't outlaw obscene language on the Internet. That means if I do find anything sordid, I can at least let the offender know what I ****ing well think of them.

You probably don't realise this doc, but angel recruitment is really big business on the Internet. If I don't want to be a CyberAngel there's plenty of other places willing to give me a step up Joseph's ladder. Like Oklahoma's Circle of Care. I can enrol as an angel via their Web site and, providing I make a donation, I'm through the Pearly Gates before you can pluck a harp.

For $75 monthly they'll make me an archangel, or for $50 I can be a seraph. They've also got budget deals. I can be a run-of-the-clouds pleb angel for $25 or, if I'm really strapped, they'll make me a cherub for just $5. They even give me a badge to prove it. I suppose you pin it on your wings, once they've grown, although I'm a bit surprised archangels get 14-carat gold pins while cherubs get only a crummy tin job. But I guess everyone needs to know their status and obviously heaven can't be without a hierarchy. The boss wouldn't approve.

As I'm now working in computers, I reckon being an angel will give me a bit of an edge. We've got Hell's Angels, Angel Cake and even Angel Prawns. So there's no reason why I can't be a computer angel.

When planes start falling from the sky because of the millennium crisis, I'll be the IT industry's Superman - flying to the rescue at the speed of, well, at least a pigeon. And the cyber halo will make a nice change to the old propeller baseball hat which might have destabilised the wings' aerodynamics anyway.

Yep - I like the idea of being touched by God, though most friends think I'm touched already.

What say you doc?