JESUS, the original and best rabble-rousing socialist firebrand with the initials JC, once advised his flock that it’s easier for a camel to squeeze through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter Heaven.

You’ll note he didn’t mention women, but maybe it’s because there’s simply no requirement for a defined gender “up there”. Presumably, sex is infeasible in spiritual orb form.

Given the countless quadrillions of organisms that have died over this ancient planet’s lifespan, it’d near impossible to find ‘the one’ up there anyway. And that’s not even counting all the alien souls that must be cluttering up the place too. 

Logically, if it wasn’t also thrust into existence by the Big Bang, Heaven exists outside of "time". Meaning, again following logic, that all the dead organisms that have ever existed or will exist in this universe must then surely be there already. Which then means you and I, dear reader, also currently reside there in some eternal form, energy emancipated from the molecular prison of space and time. 

Such speculative theological musings do beg one serious question, however – do we keep our genitals in the afterlife? It’s a conundrum that inspired the late Chuck Berry to write My Ding A Ling – an earnest ode to his old chap. Perhaps this legendary non-musical instrument should have been pickled in a jar and displayed next to his guitar in the Hard Rock Cafe.

Spare a thought too for the eternal soul of late ch-ch-changeling David Bowie. If the 80s are deemed his peak physical form, he might now be forever lumbered with his Labyrinth hairdo for all eternity.

Then again, Jesus made clear that only the skint and meek get into Heaven – definitely ruling that pair out. Ironically then, this strict door policy must also knock back those who claim to have a direct line to Heaven – spiritualists, the reality-distorting grief magnets fuelling what has now become a highly lucrative multi-million-pound global industry.

It’s as if these well-heeled practitioners of other-worldly communion aren’t actually that bothered about entering the afterlife themselves. In fact, it’s almost like they don’t believe in it at all.

The original Meg

PERHAPS I’m being a bit hasty in presuming these trans-dimensional conduits are all Christians who follow the words and teachings of a zombie Bee Gee. The legendary Mystic Meg certainly didn’t.

Presenting herself as a glam sorceress styled by Prince and the Revolution – and quite likely Jessie J’s mum – Meg’s powers during her News Of The World heyday actually seemed on an equal par to God himself. Predicting the future, talking to the dead, tarot, crystals, horoscopes, past-life regression, bathroom grouting – you name it, Meg had it covered.

Indeed, so awesome were her abilities that she could even identify individual readers of the now-defunct newspaper by printing their initials next to a personal message from the great beyond. Perhaps she simply was privy to the subscribers’ list.

Despite searching every Sunday morning for many years, I never got a message – but one memorable communication lingers long in the mind: “F.B. of London, you will have no need for gloves in America.” Perhaps Frank Bruno could have saved himself a tanking from Mike Tyson if he had simply checked his horoscope.

Meg, however, certainly had an insight into the future when it came to the art of monetising her “gift” using the power of technology. Blazing a trail for career psychics, Meg would fleece the naive, desperate and vulnerable with a premium rate phone line – no websites, apps or Facebook back then in scamming’s dark ages. This cost 80p a minute, yet callers were greeted not by Meg, but a sloooooowly and spoooookily spoken recorded message telling callers everything was goooooing to be ooooooook in their troubled lives. But Meg was lying. It wasn’t going to be OK – all those callers were going to die. Perhaps alone and painfully. As are you and I. Our last thoughts peppered with regret and remorse, before their eternal erasure from the cosmic canvas forever.

The odd delusion

GIVEN the unpalatable reality of eternal nothingness, our species’ desire to believe in something other is understandable. Yet, our willingness to be sedated by comforting delusions has now birthed a £100 million industry in the UK – one which is growing at a startling rate. And when algorithms render us all useless and redundant, it’s likely you’ll fancy a piece of that action yourself.

Supernatural powers don't even seem to be a requirement at one online “Psychic Development Course” (just £225, reduced from £300), so we must assume folk are simply being trained to be good old-fashioned confidence tricksters. Doubt the broo fork out for that one.

Even something as innocuous and silly as psychic mailings – letters promising spiritual messages – is estimated to cost UK believers £40m each year, according to Office of Fair Trading research.

Yet, it’s newer technological devilry such as online and satellite TV services that have allowed spiritualism to join the dark pantheon of digital cam-sex, casinos and bingo in casting a spell of mass zombified stupor over the nation.

Right now, millions are sacrificing their dignity in supermarket aisles, scrapping with strangers over yellow Whoops! sticker food items – just so they have enough cash to send on a one-way journey to humming servers registered for tax reasons in the Isle of Man – chasing the dragon of thrills and comfort clearly missing in their real lives.

Tricks of the trade

The well known terms ‘cold reading’ and ‘hot reading’ are little more than clever use of what is known to sociologists as the Forer Effect (also known as the Barnum Effect) and it’s how even the smartest of us can be taken in by those who "talk to the dead" and accept all major credit cards - but would likely prefer cash in hand.

The bold, brave Derren Brown has masterfully built an admirable career using similar psychological tricky, suggestion and subtle thought manipulaton but at least he and others such as entertainer Keith Barry - who made one of the most successful TedTalks of all time when he guessed the name of a woman's ex with just a few quesions - never actually claim to be psychic. Quite the opposite - mentalists like Brown and Barry seem to get a kick out of exposing the woo and deception of “real” mystics who monetise on human weakness and susceptibility. It's the oldest game in town.

So why are so many otherwise clever folk fooled? There are countless methods, some learned, some a natural sensitivity to expressions and vocal tics, but here’s a few familiar and perhaps not so familiar.

Firstly, the fact we are social animals who assimilate to our environment and mostly play along with the overarching vibe is one always exploited by mediums. It’s quite clear to psychics that you are not seeing them reluctantly like the docs or dentist - you are there for one very specific reason - and have paid money to get it. Therefore, you want value and will fool even yourself to feel you got it.

Secondly, a familiar “vagueness” of the connection to the spiritual ether allows psychics to backtrack on their many mistakes, using them as “feelers”. While they explain to you that the spirit world doesn't always communicate clearly, mibbie still on dial-up, they’re studying each of your face’s 43 muscles for the slightest twitch at their vague suggestions of common first names, initials, cancers and medical conditions, funeral songs, coloured house doors and dog collar material.

One does wonder why spirits play games with initials. And instead of telling us that you liked the cardigan we wore at the graveyard, tell us what God is like. What has your new plane of existence revealed about the meaning of it all, granny? Oh, you liked the song we chose at the funeral - thanks for coming through from the great beyond to share that. £30 spent, but definitely no receipt.

The whistleblower

We all like to think ourselves as unreadable behind our social masks, but the truth is we’re all pretty much open books to those who know what they’re looking for - especially now in the days of ubiquitous social media when our entire history is a click away. And in the flesh, wee minute shifts in body language, facial expression and plenty of other subtle cues also leave us standing as naked as Cheggars on Channel 5 to those who are experienced enough to know what they’re looking for. 

One rather simple yet effective trick was revealed in a recent confession by psychic-turned-whistleblower Mark Edward. Apparently, when customers paid in advance by credit card for the psychic session, the crook on the other side - of the phone, that is - will not only receive the money but also be able to see an itemised credit card history. You can certainly tell a lot about people by what they buy over the course of a month. Where they shop, how much they spend, what particular items - it's all builds up a very vivid picture.

Fortunately for us, whilst the scam is common practice and perfectly legitimate in the US, using credit card details in this way is illegal in the UK. “It’s not a gift,” says Edward. “It’s maybe a skill - but I call it fraud. I have met people who are very intuitive and sensitive but there is nothing supernatural about them. They just assess information that most people don’t think about."

Psychic Brexiters

IN a world where a TV advert highlighting the environmental folly of palm oil production is banned, you may wonder how mediums get the green light to advertise that they can contact the dead and predict the future.

Well, since 2008, they actually can’t – and it’s how the spiritualist community found unlikely solidarity in another set of confidence trickers – the Brexiters.

Unamused by folk profiting from the misery and vulnerability of others, the EU brought in new Consumer Protection from Unfair Trading Regulations forcing all commercial traders to substantiate claims made about their business – not easy for psychics with the whole chatting to the dead thing. They clearly never saw it coming. (The EU also states that every article like this has to include that joke.)

Humiliated spiritualists have since been forced to describe their once-revered services as “for entertainment purposes only” or “an experiment”.

Perhaps they should be happy they’ll never need to prove their creative fabrications are valid banter from the spirit world. It also seems the EU made a sound prediction itself – that in Brexit Britain, more “entertainment” will be absolutely necessary to stop us eating each other. And are you not entertained?

And finally ...

MY dad was once interrupted by the police while burying our dog Trudy in the grounds of a local church. “What the f*** you playing at, mate?” they apparently enquired.

I don’t know what my dad was playing at either. He had little faith in anything beyond his next ciggie, making Richard Dawkins look like Billy Graham. Yet, he loved that dog – and like most of us in our agnostic clouds of fuzzy logic, my dad perhaps thought “well, just in case”.

So did old Trudy’s immortal soul ascend to Heaven? Well, despite never biting anyone, giving a paw for treats and always eating her dinner, no.

Yet, one Scottish medium, “psychic barber” Gordon Smith – the UK’s “most accurate”, apparently – claims my dad’s near-arrest was not in vain.

He believes Trudy has simply entered another room in the great cosmic house of trans-dimensional planes. Not only that, Gordon claims that he could perhaps even make contact with her. “Because I’m used to having animals around me it feels natural when a deceased pet comes into contact,” he is quoted as saying.

Gordon recently sold out his rather wittily-named “Best of Both Worlds” show at Glasgow’s Pavilion. “For entertainment purposes”, stated the poster – which, admirably, also makes an effort to clarify to his predominantly elderly, perhaps Brexit-inclined audience, that it was pesky EU interference to blame for his demotion to mere “entertainer”.

It might not be such a dog's life for spiritualists in Brexit Britain, however.