Funerals

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IsAC regulars will know that one of the things I attempt when posting is to inject a bit of levity into a nomination (the extent to which my efforts at humour succeed must be left for you guys to judge).

There are some subjects however in which I simply can find no humour, and having to go to a funeral is one of them. At my time of life in particular, they come around with a frequency which is no laughing matter at all.

Last week it was the turn of a friend and former work colleague. Her name was Judith, a lovely woman whose mind had been ravaged by the dreaded Alzheimer’s to the point where she didn’t even know her own name, or could recognise family and friends.

So we all turn up to drag ourselves through the motions, heavy of heart. The person leading the service takes us through the events of the deceased’s life, and attempts to lighten the mood with those ‘happy memory’ anecdotes which are meant to bring a smile and make us go ‘ah yes, that was Judith!’. For me, standing there with a lump in my throat, this just makes matters worse.

Then it’s finally over, to the secret relief of us all. We troop out, making a feeble attempt to console the family with platitudes, wondering in the back of our minds whose turn it will be next.

Funerals. A place you have to be, and the last place you want to be. There’s just no upside whatsoever.

Funerals are a cunt.

Nominated by: Ron Knee

62 thoughts on “Funerals”

  1. I’ve never been invited to one but I reckon a Peaceful funeral would be enjoyable.
    I think it all depends on your age and experience. For a young wokie it would be an ideal opportunity for a bit of virtue signalling and grief jacking. Let’s see if any cunt can be more upset than me. For an old cunt, however, it’s just one step nearer to being the occupant of the box 🐸❌⚰️ yourself.
    A sobering thought indeed.

  2. Left wing politicians should know all about funerals – after all we see them die everyday.

    When the time comes for Anthoy Blair to mince through the pearly gates he already has his arrangements sorted out. He is using (at mates rates of course) Campbell Mandelson Limited, which, as you know are in MIncing Lane. Mr. Campbell, the chief, but unsteady mourner, has written a very informative booklet entitled “How To Lay Out Your Loved Ones”, and he has ensured that Cherie has read it, to save a bit of money off the “final offices”. The service will be led by the Revd Chris Bryant, who specializes in funerals “I’m the last one to let you down, duckie”. To save even more money the hole for the interment has been dug by Kim Leadbetter and Jess Phillips, stripped to the waist and wearing navvy boots and Wrangler jeans. The first handful of dirt will be hurled by Gordon Brown, John Prescott, Clare Short and the many members of his cabinet who were shafted by the old cunt. The funeral tea (mince and fairy cakes) has kindly been provided free by Lord Adonis, who, Hyacinth like, will be serving it on his tea service with the hand-painted periwinkles, so all will be just so.

    • One of them things you can’t duck out of.
      Got to go, show your respect.
      I’ll go a funeral as its the proper thing to do,
      But I’ll put up a right fight if someone trying to make me go a wedding, fuck that.
      Jesus,Ron,
      Dropped eggs, now funerals?
      Cheerful!
      Your like a elderly Morrissey!!

      * Sorry for your loss pal👍

  3. I cacked myself laughing at an old mates funeral, when his daughter said how fond he was of his ‘gwai louh’ mates (ghost blokes, ie whites) the chink family thought it funny, but everyone else was stoney faced. Vale, First Lieutenant Wan Kam Wing.

  4. Poignant, Ron, poignant. Last funeral I went to was for a colleague that commited suicide. Stood to attention outside the church, uniform pressed, medals and shoes shining, he’d have been more than a little touched and proud. Fortunately, it was pouring down, which hid my/our tears, as the Union Flag-draped coffin was carried into the church.

    Alzheimer’s and funerals are indeed a cunt, Ron.

    • Equally tragic, DCI; there’s something particularly traumatic about a suicide, I think.
      The wife of another friend and former colleague developed serious mental health problems, and killed herself was he was at work. That’s back in the late 80s, but I don’t think he’s ever quite recovered from the trauma.

      • Don’t think you ever do, Ron. Unfortuately, I was sent to a hanging which turned out to be a friends son. Horrific for her as she found him.

      • Bloody Nora DCI; what a fucking job you’ve got mate!
        Well done to you and your colleagues for being there for us!

  5. Trying to cheer Ron up – I don’t think they do it now (fucking feminists), but remember at traditional Indian funerals when the wife of the dear departed husband removed her sandals and jumped on the pyre with him. It was always reported a few people would try to stop the old dear from doing it?. For some reason this music always used to pop into my mind:

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MK6TXMsvgQg

  6. Funerals were great for an altar boy. Extra tips.

    I am still old-fashioned enough to stop while a cortege passes.

    I remember Mary our next door neighbour laid out in the front palour. The smell of aniseed
    All in white.

    That was some 2 days. My brother ‘received’ into the church. (That is the evening before the funeral the next day). My sister went into labour. While my brother was being buried she gave birth to a son.
    Strange coincidence.

    .

    • I stop for funerals too Miles.
      And if wearing my cap, take it off.
      Courtesy and respect isnt it?
      Nowadays not many people wear hats,
      So a custom thatll die out with older generations.

      • The last time I stopped for one it was at traffic lights Miserable. But eventually it ‘passed on’.

  7. Diseases of the mind are a scourge and a very great of money needs to be spent to try to find a breakthrough in treatment.
    Funerals are indeed a cunt.

    • In some cultures they approach a funeral differently.
      Im thinking of those jazz type ones in New Orleans,
      But cant mourn properly with some budding Louis Armstrong blasting a trumpet in your ear!
      No gravitas, no dignity.
      My father inlaws a horse dealer.
      And he went to a romany funeral.
      His second wife was related somehow,
      Anyway, dunno if anyones familiar with gyppo funerals?
      But the woman tug at their clothes, wail and throw their arms about (making a show of their mourning)
      Anyway his missus was doing it and her tits popped out!!😀
      Hahahaha
      Made me laugh any road,
      Cheer up you fuckers.

  8. I’m sorry and don’t mean this unpleasantly but I don’t see the point of funerals. When someone dies..that’s it..all that is left is a husk. I really don’t see much point hoofing along to listen to some Vicar spout platitudes.
    What finished me was thinking that I must have wandered into the wrong event as I listened to the Vicar referring to the “Dearly Departed” as “kind,generous and much-loved”…he wasn’t…he was an unashamed Old Cunt who would have been horrified to listen to such a sickly description from some God-botherer who hardly knew him.

    I also don’t go because as far as I’m concerned the “headline act” certainly won’t care if I’m there or not and one thing is for damn sure….it’s too late at that stage to alter the Will…you’re either already in it or you’re not.

    People deal with “grief” in their own way and I don’t really understand it or want to get involved in such events…..although I do enjoy a good funeral tea and sometimes go to that.

    • “I also don’t go because as far as I’m concerned the “headline act” certainly won’t care if I’m there or not”.

      Ah, but can you be certain of that, Dick?

      “Was that the trees-a-rustling or the hinges of the gate”?

      • Morning,DCI

        It’ll be a brave ghost that bothers me after a I’ve demolished a bottle of Bushmills,a few cans of Guinness and a couple of tinned-pies.

        ” My God…that smell…it’s as if the Gates of Hell have swung open and released the odour of a thousand rotting corpses”……said The Ghost.

    • Morning Dick,
      When I ‘pop off’ im going to be cremated, its cheaper.
      Unless youd let me be buried on your land?
      Maybe a 7ft corner of a field thats a bit muddy and stock dont graze?
      I wouldn’t get in the way!
      Tell them my last request is to have two fingers stuck up.

      • I usually chuck a few dead lambs in the bottom of my leek trench as fertiliser….would you mind going in there?. I feel sure that your pie and gravy-fattened corpse would do wonders for my chances at the annual leek show.
        Just hope that the Hounds don’t root you out…I have no desire to see your leering face staring up at me as I go for my nightly “piss on the leek trench”.

      • Thatll do!
        Chuck me in there.
        Lamb an leek, good ingredients for a pie!
        Cheers Dick👍

        Here lies the bones of MNC
        Died at the age of a hundred an three.
        Though a shame that hes now dead
        I still remember to piss on his head!”

      • Buried thus, MNC is liable to sprout a pink leek from the groin area and frighten trespassing lady ramblers

      • Here lies the bones of MNC
        No more will he ramble free
        He stood on my vast land-holdings and stared with wonder
        Now the trespasser’s six feet under.

        The Cunt.

      • I’m going to be pickled, being very conscientious and organised I’m already halfway there.

    • I once made the mistake of going to a Catholic funeral…fucking dreadful…went on for fucking hours….if I hadn’t walked out half-way through,I’d have missed the televised racing from Doncaster.

      • Bloody hell, you’re right about that Dick. Went to two in quick succession when neighbours of ours died.
        A lovely couple (he was a really kindly old Italian guy who came here just after the war), and the obligation was there to pay our respects, but fucking hell, I needed a piss halfway through the first one, thought I’d never make it.

      • The one I went to wasn’t a neighbour…it was a local Pub landlord…luckily the family had arranged for the tea to be served in the lounge of his Pub… with being there early I got first dibs on the food,a few pints and managed to see the racing afore the grieving family showed up.

        Morning,Ron.

    • I hope whoever it was that got upset with my “Euphemisms” nom. doesn’t get an eyeful of my latest contributions.

  9. It’s the people that pre-plan the details of their own funerals that I find wierd.

    Carriage drawn by white horses.
    Types of flowers.
    Choice of pall bearers.
    Music to be played.

    Funerals are there for the people left behind, so it should be their choice.
    It’s not like the cunt who is dead will be there to enjoy it.

    (Restored – Day Admin)

  10. I have just tried to post a comment on this thread and nothing happened.

    There was nothing that needed moderating.

    Any ideas Admin?

    (For some odd reason your original comment went into our spam bin even though there was nothing outwardly wrong the content or your name/email or IP address. Perhaps its your turn to be picked on by WordFence. Funny old world – Day Admin)

  11. My elder daughter is a doctor in a major hospital. When a patient dies there is a requirement for extra paperwork if he or she is to be cremated. She receives a small extra payment for this service, commonly referred to by the staff as “cash for ash”. It gives her the creeps and she donates it to charity.
    A depressing start to the day on the twentieth anniversary of 9/11. Try to be cheerful folks: think of the good things you’ve got and how lucky you are!

    • As I said to Dame Keir just the other day – “you’re a long time dead – by the look of you”

  12. Dearly Beloved,

    We are gathered here today because your prayers didn’t work. That’s because praying is a waste of fucking time.

  13. When you make it to a ripe old age, funerals needn’t be a sad occasion.

    My older brother Doug died a couple of years ago he was 90. He literally just went to bed one night and never woke up. How peaceful?

    At the funeral my Niece said to me at the Church, “it’s cold in here George”, to which I replied, “well, it will be warmer at the Crem, so your Dad will be ok”.

    Never spoke to me since.

    He was 90 for fucks sake. Why can’t I crack a few jokes at his expense at his funeral. He was a right card and it would have been what he wanted.

    Has everyone gone a bit touchy-feely, or am I just a heartless relic from a bygone era?

  14. Most funerals are utterly tedious affairs, full of mumbo-jumbo and hypocrisy. That said, I’d rather attend a funeral than a wedding any day!

  15. My granddad’s funeral was what I referred to as a ‘McFuneral’ shortly afterwards.

    It could’ve been for any cunt. Misplaced eulogising about a terrible cunt, the twee pan-pipe cover of ‘My Heart Wil Go On’ instead of German marching music. We went out the back as the next lot where coming in.

    No dignity in it at all, but I guess the ‘pre-fabricated’ nature of it saved that side of the family money, which is all-important.

  16. I really don’t like funerals where the family try and make the service as sad as possible with readings and the like.
    At my dad’s funeral we planned for his favorite song “Tutti Frutti” by Little Richard to be played at the committal ( where the curtains close and the coffin goes off to the furnace).
    Someone must have pressed play a bit early as the priest was trying to bless the coffin to “whap do Da dang dang a whop dang do” and a few giggles.

  17. My mate had ” They are coming to take me away”. Billy boy was always good for a laugh, even at the end.

    • I want ‘Fire’ by Arthur Brown playing at my committal.

      Or a more serious choice would be ‘The Last Farewell’ by Roger Whittaker.

      And if I hear ‘Abide With Me’ playing at any time during my service, I will find my way out of the coffin and punch the person responsible for choosing it.

      And that includes my Missus.

      • I’ve told the wife that I want carried in to ‘On The Beach’ by Chris Rea, the original smoother album version, cos with any luck, that’s where I’ll be. I want played out to Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Don’t Stop’, which hopefully will cheer everybody up.
        I’ve also told her to hire a comedian to do a routine and make people laugh, I’d rather be remembered with a smile than a tear. I think she thinks that I’m irreverant tho.

  18. Been to too many funerals, if I’ve learned one thing it’s I’m not having one. If the kids want to see me incinerated or buried or whatever happens to my mortal remains that’s up to them.

    I’ll also be spending as little as possible, two of my siblings has the full horse drawn hearse through Putney funeral. Cost an absolute fortune for what purpose?

    Everyone deals with this in their own way but for me if I have advance knowledge of my departure I’ll record a video to replace the service and have it emailed to those that I feel need to see it.

    Some recipients will get told they’re a cunt one last time from beyond this mortal realm. Mainly because it’s the last opportunity I’ll have to be a cunt!

    • That would’ve been perfect for me Mammy’s obit., except for “beloved.”
      As for the funeral, it’s lu ky my sister returned to UK before I finalised the arrangements. When my grannie died, my mother was whingeing left, right and centre about the Deaconess that was part of the bakery package. I assumed, therefore, that Mommie Dearest, on her departure, would NOT be requiring a skypilot. However, she had told my Sis that she wanted one from URC up the road, which used to be Scottish Presb.
      At least we got shedloads of decent sarnies from M&S. And my Sis intoning
      “it’s our turn next.”
      Not if I can bloody help it. However, that was 13 years ago.
      I shall just have a direct to toast factory job; well, as I’m not paying, I guess it’ll be some sort of paper’s funeral.
      Last one I went to was in Vienna – a January, snow on the ground. Almost like The Third Man, but not the Central Cemetary.
      Like most people, I guess I’m just praying that one morning, I fail to wake up. Anything else is too hideous. Some old folks’ home, hot sweet tea and banana sandwiches?? Fuck off.

  20. Sir Ron of Knee, for some, funerals are indeed a can of can’t. Alzheimer’s, to me, is an even bigger can of can’t. I hope she slipped away painlessly. Dog bless her.
    When I shuffle off, I don’t want a funeral with lots of people. Just a cremation attended by immediate family. Sprinkle me somewhere nice.
    Then tea and cake for everyone after. Just remember not to bake the cake in the same oven as me hehe.

    Dog bless you for writing a nomination on this heartening subject.

    • Afternoon Spoons.
      Yeah according to the very nice lady who led the service (it was a humanist affair) she ‘died peacefully with family members beside her’.
      When statements like this are made, you’ve got to hope they’re true. It’s the last thing that you can wish for the deceased.

  21. Funerals are indeed a cunt👎

    The last one I would have liked to attend, was a favourite Aunt, unfortunately it was limited to her immediate family due to the fucking Chinese virus.

    On a brighter note, a few years ago, a family member (musician), with a sense of humour, was committed to type sound of “Firestarter”! He would have laughed at that 👍

    On an even brighter note, I remember standing outside the crematorium with a friend, waiting for the arrival of a mutual friend, on his “final journey”.
    A group of young women, daughters and nieces of his girlfriend, were walking down the path towards us, when the Sun “came out” and the body of a very pretty young woman was perfectly revealed, through her black lace dress👍

    “Is it appropriate to get an erection at a funeral?” Asked my mate, with a chortle.

    “Is exactly what he would have said!”, I replied.

    Excellent nom. As usual, Ron👍

  22. I think I’ve only ever been to one funeral and that was enough for me. As for what people think they ought to say at these occasions, John Cleese had the right idea talking about Graham Chapman. Just think what he could come out with at the funeral of the thieving twat flattened by that car.

  23. Hell, yes. Pissing rain, exposed graveyard, half the cunts there never spoke to the deceased when they (plural) were alive, and the cunt minister boring on for a solid hour with passages from the John Gospel interspersed with his own mumbo-jumbo. Huge thinks balloon above crowd, reading “I really could do with a nice cuppa right now”.

    Does it bring any kind of comfort to the bereaved? Can’t see how it does.

    • I think you’re spot on, K.
      At my age I’ve been at a fair few, family friends ans sometimes people I was just acquainted with.
      The only sensation I’ve ever experienced is that of miserable hopelessness.

      • I went to my grandmother’s (CofE) funeral. Grandfather, father, me – and the bloke next door. Vicar out of his depth, and mercifully brief. Dad turned to me after it was over and said, “You know, I think Mr. D—— (from next door) would have done that a lot better.” I could only agree.

        Mr. D——- was a Sephardic rabbi.

  24. I’m thinking of opening a funeral home. I think it is a good business to be in as people are dying to to get in the place year round.

  25. I love the Steptoe funeral episode:
    “Oh gawd, what are you snivelling for?”
    “The neighbours might be looking, ‘arold… “

  26. The traffic warden’s coffin was being lowered into the grave when an anguished voice was heard…
    “I’m not dead!!”
    The padre said:
    “I’m sorry, it’s too late to stop, I’ve done the paperwork.”

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