After Life Care

I am going to die soon (hopefully in the next 40 years) but your fucked too because you are going to die too!
As a career I had an association with death, I met a number of dead people who were dead.. simply because if they were not I wouldn’t be typing this now, some of them were not so bad because they were fresh, some were rather bothersome and smelly, (these were my formative years and look how well I turned out).
So now at the time of life where I find myself as a regular invite to funerals I thought I needed to rethink things.
I have little in the way of an estate (well I have a car) and what little I have I would like to pass to Mrs B.
So I donated my body to medical research! I then found out that the cunts running it charge a transport fee should I die out of area ( Really?).
Short of suicide on the steps of chosen medical facility I can’t guarantee that I will die in dragging distance of said facility.
So by chance I have opted for option B I have donated my body to anthropological study at Hull University, this means my body is dumped in a field (or used to re enact a crime) and studied as it decomposes, which in retrospect is better than a group of medical students arguing on whose cadaver has the largest willy.
Any way the cunting being the cost of after life care…. mine hopefully is sorted

Nominated by Lord Benny

36 thoughts on “After Life Care

  1. You should have chosen Mr F’s land to dump your body on. He wouldn’t have charged you rent including right in to the hereafter. His turnips also, would show an appreciable increase in size.

  2. A refreshingly unusual and thought-provoking cunting, Lord B.

    As a “fellow traveller”, in the sense of:

    1 I’m a regular invitee to funerals of random cunts I’ve known, but rarely attend
    2 I have a (former) career-association with death and dead people, of the type you describe, but in my case largely vicarious (but non the less vicious)
    3 I own, tax, and insure a 7-seater XC90 which could be categorised as an “estate car”

    I would advise any posthumous worries about disposal of your cadaver be better addressed by either currying favour with local operators of Bessemer converters (Terminator-style), or better still: purveyors of fine chemicals, such as perchloric and triflic acid, or plain old oleum. Cut out the middleman.

    Qui audet adipiscitur

  3. I want to be stuffed and used as a display piece in the Natural History Museum. Like a modern day Neanderthal Man, the Children of the Future…multi-coloured, on the spectrum,sexually- ambiguous, weak,benefit-sponging,allergy-suffering,spoiled brats…will be able to see just what a Real Man used to look like. Hopefully, I will also have a Public-Address system fitted ,that way the buggers can hear my views on various subjects,too.

    Fuck Off.

    • You will soon come to appreciate your true standing/worth when you eventually croak it.

      Close relations will be wondering “Did he leave a will? and if so, how much will I get?”

      Friends will probably say “Thank fuck for that!”

      Previous exes and former totty will gather in great adulation for making their earth move (or more likely laugh at your small appendage and 20 second pump action)

      Us ISACs will probably think “did anyone of have DF in the dead pool?”

      RIP – pending

      • One of my few regrets is that I won’t be around to see my relatives’ faces at the will-reading when they realise just what I’ve done.

        Fuck them.

    • Strangely reminiscent of episodes from some of Tom Sharpe’s novels.

  4. My wife has received her instructions – am going straight to landfill via the black wheelie bin.

    • Damn. I thought that was my idea. I’ve told my sister just to chuck me in the skip, preferably with a bullet hole in my head before I start dribbling over everything.

        • Not if it’s on some other cunt’s drive……middle of the night……wheelbarrow……job done.

          • And if someone phones the plis to report a body in a skip, they won’t bother investigating…
            (What colour nail varnish would they wear for such occasions ?)

        • A skip’s an open-top Skoda, isn’t it ? A great idea for the cortege/motorcade, SYM.

  5. The only thing I fear about death is being reincarnated as Flabbott’s gimp!

    I used to be an organ donor, but they can all fuck off now because the way things are going medical facilities might resort to virtue signalling corpses: is it white? is he male? is he over 50? is he a cunt and vote leave?

    If all answers are in the affirmative then expect to have your innards fed to the dogs.

    Fuck that! But what I will go for is cremation and piss off those climate change cunts by polluting the fucking air (I will make a special effort to choke Emma fucking Thomson!)

    Best way to croak it is a three-way with two nubile young wenches, a good supply of booze, cannabis and some Iron Maiden playing in the background!

    Fuck ’em!

  6. I am looking forward to arriving in Paradise and working my way through the 72 virgins which have been promised me. Mind you, I will need some restoration work carrying out to take full advantage of the situation.

      • Arghh, although I do think the one with the pink bow tie is rather sweet! You don’t think Mr F, do you, that if you’re homophobic and you go to heaven that the Gayness is inflicted on you as a form of punishment? Perhaps I’m turning now as a means of preparation?

        • I was just thinking about my last point. If it were true, there would be more gays than straights in both heaven and hell. God help you if your still straight when you get there!!

          • All Gays go to Hell. The Bible tells us this….as do priests before they bum a choirboy.

          • Do know Mr F, I first read this as ‘burn a choir boy” and thought ‘that’s a bit drastic.’ Just made my Specsavers appointment this minute and have cut down on the wanking.

        • Being homophobic gets you in and a seat at the top table, everyone knows that Gayness is a sin.
          All the Gays that die are punished, God himself fucks the pretty ones, the ugly ones go to James Savile.

          • I rather liked the idea of bumming in eternal damnation, particularly if Penny Mordaunt was around (behind me).

  7. I’m interested in how Admin got photo of Dale Winton in the mortuary?

  8. Would like to go on a barge made from the bones of my enemies with wailing women scattering flowers and people crying, but more likely a massive heart attack on m6 at 80mph , trying to steer it through the pain into a minibus full of peacefuls! Then paupers grave.

    • I’ve always thought being savaged, by a psychotic polar bear would be a nice way to go. But only if your name is mohamed or some such shit, and it would be great spectacle for all decent people to watch.

  9. I once asked my GP how I went about donating my body to medical science. ‘Mmm, they’re rather particular about who they take’ came the reply.
    Fucking hell, I thought that the only qualification you needed to get onto the slab in a medical school was to be brown bread.

    • Cheeky Cunt, Ron! Your GP sounds just like mine…..a miserable, rude old scrote.

      ‘Particular about who they take’? What the actual fuck?


  10. I have somd gypsies who will take my body away in a skip and sell it for doner kebab meat.

  11. Seeing as I do not have a pot to piss in, am still living with my very tolerant parents in order to save the shite money I get from my shite self-employment and cannot afford to rent a fucking rabbit hutch in this shit hole that is London, fuck knows what the hell will happen when I snuff it as I simply cannot afford to cark it. Realistically speaking, that could actually be during one of my weekly trips to Poundland for cheap shit. Let’s face it, I could get a severe brain injury from being lamped by some chav fighting me over who gets the last bog roll on the shelf.

    One just never knows when ones clogs will be popped.

    Funeral costs? Fuck that, just do a Mafia ‘cement shoes’ on me and chuck me in the Thames. Despite being born and raised in Londonistan, that’ll be the first time my arse has ever been on, or rather IN it. Nature will rapidly take its course with all of the parasitic (and literal) shite inhabiting it and job done.


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