Migration is no joke

Jill dies and goes to heaven. She gets up above, and God says to her "Welcome mate, glad you made it. Now how would you feel about a holiday?" Pulling out his iPhone, God shows Jill a YouTube video of a night in hell: images of gorgeous people dancing and partying all night long is enough to convince her to take God up on his offer.

The next day Jill wakes up in Hell, finding herself in the middle of what looks like the most happening nightclub she's ever been to. Gorgeous people everywhere dancing it up to rockin' beats, mojitos on tap, flashing lights and sweat and man oh man, she was feeling alive with the buzz, the pulse, the vibrancy of the place. When the sun came up the next day and it was time to go back to Heaven, Jill was a little sad.

"What's wrong Jill? You look disappointed to be here" said God when Jill returned to the calm, quiet and orderly pastures of Heaven.
"Oh it's just that hell was so much fun! There was so much to do, and it was so loud and alive and colourful and I felt inspired! Alive!"
"I see", said God. "Well how would you like to go back?"
"Go back?! I'd love to! What's the catch?"
"This time there's no coming back. If you choose to go back to hell, then that's where you'll stay. Think about this carefully, Jill. It's a big decision."
God gave her the day to think about it, and came back in the evening to find out her answer.
"I'm going," she said. "Don't take it the wrong way, Heaven is lovely, but Hell is the kind of place for me."
"No hard feelings," said God. "Good luck."
And with that Jill descended down into the depths of hell.

Now, God being the two-way communicator he is, decided to check in with Jill a month later, and see how happy she was with the sea change.

"So Jill, it's been a month, how do you like hell?"
"Oh God, it's so hot down here! And it's so loud! The noise never stops, I can't get any peace, I never sleep, everyone is tired and cranky and stressed and hungover all the time, and no one cares! Why didn't you tell me Hell was like this? It seemed like so much fun the first time I came?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," says God, "did you think tourism and migration were the same thing? 

A variation of this joke was told to me by A french man as I sipped cheap Bordeaux red and rushed to express how besotted with Paris I had become. Check. Mate.