Funerals. I hate them. Everyone all fucking miserable. What a depressing affair; selfish loved ones slipping off into the eternal void.
To be honest, ever since my dad died I’ve thought about my own mortality. Probably a bit too much. In fact WAY too much, but that’s for another time.
By the way, don’t get me wrong, funerals are a nice way to say goodbye to a loved one, BUT GOD ARE THEY SLOW.
And you lose a day off work.
So, since my dad died, I’ve been planning my own, bit by bit, in my tiny little brain. I did a will when I bought my house, when I was single, and had no funeral rules. It costs £75 to change it with my bank (Yorkshireman: I don’t think so), and as it won’t include the now necessary funeral rules, and in case my missus can’t remember them all, here they are in writing, with most sensible and spiritual reasonage.
1) “OI. HEARSE MAN. SPEED THE FUCK UP”. Funeral processions when you’re trying to get to work…JESUS! I remember fondly my granddad always stopping walking if he saw a hearse, and doffing his cap. Quite beautiful to be honest. Yet no-one does that anymore, a shame yes, but a fact, so get a bloody move on. 30mph speed limit, everyone doing 15, GO! I want the hearse to drive like a normal car in rush hour traffic speed bumps and all. Just GO. People have to get to work, or back to watch Jeremy Kyle from the school run, or they might need a shit, they don’t want to be dawdling behind a dead body.
2) Speed bumps. As mentioned. I want bounced. I actually want to see (well I won’t, others will) a coffin bouncing all over the place in the back of a hearse. Take me over the speed bumps, but good. It will be hilarious, I promise. Shake the rigor mortis out of me hearse man.
3) Flowers. No fucking flowers. Flowers are beautiful, when attached to a plant. Leave them there, don’t waste your money. It’s a “nice thing” apparently to offer the flowers that are brought to the crematorium to the local hospice or old folks home. IS IT? In my opinion they’re a reminder to the recipients in said establishments of where they are going shortly. If you MUST buy flowers, put them in your house and think of me when you look at them. I hope they smell of shit.
3) Pass the parcel. Everyone loves pass the parcel. I want pass the parcel during the service. Wife and I had it during our wedding, to the tune of The Archers, and it was bloody hilarious, plus it’s nice and jaunty, keeps a good pace of passing, so I want pass the parcel, to the theme tune of The Archers. Prize every time it stops. Big pants, fake moosetaches, whoopee cushions, etc. It will be a scream. Oh and if anyone tries keeping hold of it until the music stops, punch them in the puss. Cheats.
4) Music. I want The Birdie Song. Nay, I WILL HAVE The Birdie Song. I also want a nice heavy metal song, either Fade To Black by Metallica, or Ohne Dich by Rammstein, either is fine, but I want The Birdie Song, and you all must dance and sing. No missing out the “and shake your arse” line either in church. God won’t mind. God invented swearing.
5) Walking past the coffin. The final goodbye on the way out. Probably the most awful part of any funeral; but no more! I want everyone to shout a one word comedy insult. The idea of a procession of my friends walking past shouting “TWAT” or “WANKER” truly fills me with joy! Please don’t forget this, it’s probably my most crucial wish. Feel free to throw things at me.
6) Fancy dress. Self explanatory. It’s not compulsory, but I’m not joking. I want at least 6 people to come in a fancy dress outfit. Not “come” in a fancy dress outfit like that, you’ll lose your deposit. I want at least one Telletubby too.
7) Food. I’ve been to some funerals with some real pretentious nose-bag. Like rich Aunt Maude will be judging the family if there isn’t a truffle on top of every sandwich. Well fuck Auntie Maude. I want sausage chips and beans, and fish finger sandwiches. Growing up in the 70’s, where even the finest Michelin starred restaurants only aspired to serving “Pie” and the uber expensive “Salmon”, sausage beans & chips was the closest we came to anything finely seasoned with a tomato reduction. That’s food sorted.
8) Games. Bouncy castle. I want a bouncy castle. The kids can have a go I suppose, but it’s for the adults. Bouncy bouncy. And I want a tombola, I love tombolas, I do not know why. Perhaps it’s the possibility of winning some old shit you don’t need for only a pound. Lovely.
9) Rules. There is no official start time. I’m late for everything, and I mean everything. I’m late for work every day, parties, meetings, I am USELESS. Feel free to get your own back and turn up whenever you like, I won’t give a shit. Walk in half way through the pass the parcel, sit down, join in, don’t even apologise.
So there you have it. I’m sure my warped mind will come up with more ideas before the big day, but if you have any suggestions, do let me know. If you’re going to lose a days holiday coming to my burning in a small oven lit with Asda disposable barbeques, you might as well enjoy it.
I hope I have a nice time, and if it’s an open casket, no peeking at my cock.