This joke is optional for Americans.

A Welshman died and went up to the pearly gates where he was met by a saint with a clipboard, who began to ask him questions:
Saint: Name?
Welshman: Gareth Llewellyn
S: Date of birth?
W: 19/6/46
S: Place of birth?
W: Colwyn Bay
S: Qualification for admission to heaven?
W: I have never drunk, gambled, smoked, sworn, missed chapel on Sunday …
S: Stop. You clearly haven't heard about the new regulations. We've been getting so many of you Welsh Baptists up here whose lives are just based on not doing anything wrong, that we all got hideously bored. So to qualify now, as well as not doing anything wrong, you have to prove you did at least one remarkable thing in your life to make it worthwhile and memorable. So did you ever save someone's life, or write a novel or have a flower named after you?
W: Well no. Mind you, I did play cricket for Glamorgan.
S: OK. That should do it. Of course, we'll need to get it verified, but that won't be a problem. Due to an administrative oversight we've got Wilf Wooler up here!
W: I don't think he'll remember me.
S: Don't be daft. He was Mr Glamorgan – player, captain, secretary, president….
W: Yes but I doubt if he'll remember me. The truth is I only played one game. It was a dull Thursday and I went to watch the start of a match against Essex at Colwyn Bay. Before the start they were warming up. Peter Walker hit a high ball up for fielding practice. Bernie Hedges and Jim Presdee both ran for it, crashed into each other and both got taken to hospital with concussion. There was only one twelfth man so they appealed to the crowd for someone to play. I was the only spectator under 50. I didn't bowl, didn't take a catch and made 0 and 0 not out.
S: Well you may not have been much of a cricketer, but that's a really interesting story. I reckon we can let you in on that – provided you really have led a sinless life. Is there anything you need to confess?
W: Well, yes there is. And it happened in that match. I was number 11. With the fifth ball of the penultimate over, needing 4 to win, Ossie Wheatley was out, and that was the ninth wicket down. As he met me coming back in he said, "Don Shepherd is at the other end. If he gets the last over he'll get a 4. All you have to do is survive one ball. Don't try to be a hero. Let it go if you can; if not, block it." I took guard and the bowler ran up and bowled. It looked as if it was going to be just outside off. I knew I should pad up, and leave it, but a little voice in my head said, "You could hit this for 4 and win the match!" I went to drive, but as soon as it hit the ground it cut away and I just knew it was going to take the outside edge. It was too late to withdraw the bat, so I did the only thing I could. I coughed. There was a nick, the wicketkeeper took it and all the slips went up. But the umpire wasn't sure he'd heard a nick over the sound of my cough, and gave me the benefit of the doubt. In the next over Don Shepherd got the boundary and we won.
S: And so that Glamorgan could win a cricket match, you cheated and imperilled your immortal soul?
W: I'm afraid so.
S: Well, I think on this occasion we can turn a blind eye and let you in.
W: Thank you. That's fantastic. And everyone always says what a stickler St. Peter is!
S: Oh, St. Peter is on his tea-break. I'm St. David.