If heaven does exist, and I somehow manage to wangle myself a ticket, I hope that everybody there speaks in the same Scottish accents as The Just Joans. Am in love. Seriously. My god, what delicious accents these people have. They could threaten to kill my favourite pet, set my house on fire, force feed me sausage casserole and make me watch back to back episodes of Big Brother, and as long as they’d say it all in their charming Scots speak, my lovestruck stupor would prevent any argument. Lovely stuff.