St. Peter Thinks Your Death Was Shit

Wouldn't you be absolutely gutted if you only got into heaven if you died a proper good death, and you died by choking on a cake or something? St. Peter is a harsh mo-fo, to be sure.
"And what did you die of, son? Was it in a fight with a nuclear bomb? Or were you eaten by a shark and an alligator at the same time?"
"Urm..... something like that...."
"Well what was it then?"
"Well it's sort of hard to explain...."
"How so?"
So you say under your breath: "...............I choked on a cake."
"What? I can't hear you, speak up! I'm fucking St. Peter for fuck's sake, don't be mumbling in front of me, I've had enough shit from dead people in my eternal lifetime to have to put up with this."
"I said I choked on a cake, alright!!"
(Gasps all round)
"Well fuck me, that is the worst fucking death I've ever heard of, and I once had a guy who got fucked up by a teapot. I'm afraid you're simply not eligible for a place in heaven, you're going to have to loiter around over there for the rest of eternity," he says, and points to a rather gloomy area which seems to be populated by lots of people with teapots embedded in their heads.
"Oh for fuck's sake."
You're literally gutted, but rules are rules. Just out of curiosity you hang around for a bit to see what the next guy's death was.
"Cause of death?" asks St. Peter, who you have just decided has a fucking big nose anyway so the joke's on him, and at the end of the day his job is shit. He doesn't even get to go into heaven, he has to stand at the fucking gate, FOREVER. That'd be like being a bouncer for the most amazing nightclub of all time with a never-ending queue of dead people, or something.
"It was mental. I was pegging it along some clifftop, coz I'm a fucking nutcase like that, just jogging along ridiculously fast, when SUDDENLY a motherfucking bald-headed eagle swoops down and batters me right in the ankle, and I was all like 'Say whaaaat?' but it was too late, my ankle was fucked, right, and I fell off the cliff but I as I was falling down a cock-sucking Nazi sniper who had been hiding in the face of the cliff since the war fucking shot me in the shoulder! By now I was all like 'Shit me!' but there wasn't much I could do about it, so I was falling down this huge cliff with a battered ankle and a fucked-up shoulder, when SUDDENLY I landed absolutely safely on a branch that was sprouting out of the side of the cliff, so I was all like 'Phew! Thank God for that!' but it wasn't over yet! I then had a brain haemorrhage and a heart attack at the same time, and a skinhead bottled me in the face."
There is a poignant silence, and then finally St. Peter initiates a slow clap.
"Banging. Absolutely banging. That's the sort of shit I want to hear," he says, and markedly looks at you, "For that you even get to shake Jesus' hand when you go in."
"Oh that's good."
"Yeah innit."
So you watch this jammy cunt go in and shake Jesus' hand, looking proper fucking smug. By the way, Jesus actually has a huge ginger afro. Not many people know that.
"Fuck it. Jesus is a twat anyway," you mutter as you retreat to your gloomy corner.
"What was that shit?" St. Peter asks.
"I didn't say anything."
"Yeah that's right nothing."
So yeah the weather's pretty shit today isn't it?