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This is a question Putting the Fun in Funeral

Some deaths come suddenly or too soon and can really hit hard, others seem to be a blessed relief. Similarly, some funerals can be deeply upsetting and sad, others can make you want to hug the world.

Mmm, don't want to bring you down or anything, but tell us your funeral stories...

(, Thu 11 May 2006, 9:31)
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This question is now closed.

A old friend died a few years back; Tim was a bugger for the bottle (and other substances). He was a tight-arse and never used the heating in his ground floor flat (just used to pile on extra clothing). One Christmas his idiot father gave him a bottle of PICKLING rum, you know the 'don't EVER drink this' type. Well, Tim drank it and was getting a bit hot so removed several layers of clothing before passing out on his living room table (no pun intended). Tim died of exposure in his own flat.
After his funeral his ashes were passed to his friends and we planted a new tree on a secluded spot we all gather at once a year. Needless to say the tree was dead within the year after all the friends poured beer/ whiskey/ piss/ cigarettes/ etc on it.
So now, once a year, people still pour stuff on "Tim's Twig" and reminisce about the silly bugger.
(, Wed 17 May 2006, 8:41, Reply)
The Gramps
A fine old bugger, finest man I ever met - named the little un after him, in fact.

At my Gran's house, we're all laughing and joking before the funeral - as he'd have wanted - and this general hilarity continued in the car on the way to the crematorium.

Then, when we got there, the tears started.

Sorry Grandad, we couldn't help it.

He won me two Blue Peter badges, you know.
(, Wed 17 May 2006, 6:21, Reply)
not funny, but fun indeed.
played samba pa ti (on electric guitar) for my mom's funeral.
it was awesome, and one of the first times i had played in front of a ton of people (too many to even fit in the meeting house.)
also one of the first times i had played it flawlessly.
(, Wed 17 May 2006, 2:45, Reply)


(, Wed 17 May 2006, 1:46, Reply)
My late mate Gav...
... had a very large funeral when he died a few years ago (Motor Neurone Disease - well all thought it would be the bikes that did it, but there you go).

I had driven over to Edinburgh with my Mum and mate Andy , who had known Gav from when we were all (ostensibly) students years ago. All went well, mostly held it together all throughout. Then back to Gav's parent's house. As we stood in the garden reminiscing and eating, telling each other about stuff we'd got up to and the like, there was a flash of lightning and a huge clap of thunder.

"Fucks sake", I said, slightly too loud, "you give a kid a new toy..."
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 23:34, Reply)
Rudy kept his sense of humor
Rudy had a lot of fun while he was alive -- he loved dancing, and Scotch, and horse racing, though not necessarily in that order. He almost always had a racing form handy, and frequently played the ponies.

Unfortunately, Rudy became afflicted with Lou Gehrig's Disease (also known as amyotrophic lateral sclerosis), which assured him of a long, unpleasant slide towards death. Fortunately for him, he had a good support group of friends who came over to drink with him once a week, even after he was incapable of taking food or drink without assistance.

The last time Rudy saw his support group was on St. Patrick's Day a few years back; on March 19 he finally died.

When we went to the funeral home for the calling, we saw that Rudy's casket was bedecked with a banner that read "I'D RATHER BE IN SARATOGA," Saratoga being a famous horse-racing track in the state of New York. As it turned out, Rudy himself had ordered the banner, and had even had it done over when he discovered that the mounting grommets on the first one didn't align properly with the handles on his casket.

I'm sure the banner had the effect Rudy had intended, as about everyone who saw it laughed. What could have been a mournful occasion took the air of a cocktail party, and we all stood around and told stories about what a funny guy he had been, all the way to the end.

(His tombstone is engraved with the same saying, by the way.)
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 22:51, Reply)
My Auntie Carol died some years ago...
...and the priest conducting the funeral had just about finished his SATs judging by his baby face. He had to keep rushing over to his lectern to check what to do next. She was cremated so her coffin was on rollers ready to go behind those curtains and he almost forgot to flick the switch so he very nearly finished the service with her still there, and then at the end, the very next sentence following 'Amen' was 'Which way do I get out of here?' followed by a little snigger. I'd be willing to bet it was his first.
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 21:41, Reply)
Chav Funeral.
I have a family member who works in the funeral business. He told me he did a funeral for a 60 year-old chavette the other week, & that the family insisted on having a Burberry hat on top of the coffin, & that many of the mourners turned up in their market-stall tracksuit finest.

Apparently, they had originally tried to get a Burberry print casket. Classy.
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 20:28, Reply)
Maybe it's true
There is a story floating around the old parts of Yorkshire (is there any other kind) of a grumpy old sod who had the good grace to shuffle off this mortal coil many years ago.

The story goes that as he was such a churlish little bastard his funeral was attended by no more than two people; his solicitor and someone who knew the deceased but not well enough to dislike him like everyone else clearly had done. Apparently he had family but none of them had elected to come.

Anyhoo, after the internment on a typical wet and windy afternoon the solicitor chap suggested that the other mourner should come back to his office for the reading of the will where, under the terms of the miserable old sods will, the entire estate was to be equally divided amongst all the attendees of his funeral.

Some £4 1/2 million.

It would be nice to think it's true.

Onto a true funeral story, last year we buried my mum. Tragic event for all concerned, not least her, she was in fine health at the time.
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 18:34, Reply)
My sister and I went to our uncle's funeral. We didn't know the area and so resorted to the usual "we'll follow them" approach.

That worked well for the journey from the church to the crematorium and we got from A to B in time for everything. When it came to going from the crematorium to my uncle's house, however, our plan came unstuck as we followed someone from the crematorium who was going to visit a friend before going on to my uncle's house. Unfortunately so did we and the people following us.

Thankfully they had satnav.
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 17:32, Reply)
Like a fly marrying a bumble bee....
My sister and i following the hearse of my Auntie.

Both a little wiered out by the nasty atmosphere with feuding families in cold war mose.

Car starts

First song that plays from the CD on random

The Happy Happy Joy Joy Song

Cue Waynes world type bouncing as we follow thin lipped rellies

god Bless Ren and stimpy

RIP Auntie B
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 17:02, Reply)
Not much experience really.
My Grandma on my mother's side died in January. Was my first funeral despite being 19, and I was freaked out, but everything was quite sweet. Had been very close to her, but my family were keeping their sense of humour about them.

This was evident after the cremation. We went to a pub for lunch. I ordered pint of Fosters and steak and scampi. I asked my mum how I should have my steak done, not having had it before (deprived).

Mother suggested 'Oh have it slightly well done but you don't want it cremated or anything.'

She then went bright red, but the rest of the family pissed themselves laughing and it was all well once again.

No other stories other than my parents attending my Great Uncle's funeral and having my mum give me a great rendition of how my Great Aunty nearly threw herself into the grave after him.
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 16:36, Reply)
A friend's cremation
He went out to "One Step Beyond"
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 16:23, Reply)
Trying Not To Laugh
I was at my cousin's funeral, he was an alcoholic and died a premature death. His own brother, as part of the eulogy, said "You we're no fucking use to anyone in life and you're even less use now." With that said he played 'Roll With It' by Oasis and said "Let the party begin!"
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 16:16, Reply)
Not so much a funeral as the wake....
Upon returning all teary eyed and sad and the like from the crematorium to my grandfathers wake, i was surprised to notice a stinking old "dear" stealing sandwiches from the huge table of food and putting them in her delightful zimmerframe-on-wheels-with-a-leather-zip-bag sandwich snaffling device. Makes a nice change from cat food i suppose.

[insert generic comment regarding length/girth, being my first time, long time lurker etc. etc.]
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 15:55, Reply)
last year I had 9 funerals to go to of close family and friends,
it was great!
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 14:00, Reply)
Cheers Guys!
My mother in law's death was a pretty traumatic experience, she was riddled with the big C and unable to express her pain because of Alzheimer's had sought solace in the bottle.

I wasn't looking forward to the funeral.

The cortege started off at a snail's pace and wound it's way around the back streets of Islington. On a patch of waste ground 3 street drinkers were sat with their cans of extra strong mid morning lager.

As we drew level with them they all put their cans down, stood smartly to attention, removed their caps and bowed their heads with great reverence.

I swear I saw my late M-I-L smile!
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 13:02, Reply)
Porn’s part of the grieving process, right?
My grandmother died right after xmas a few years ago. First there was the slightly surreal viewing with my insane (hears voices, among other things) Great Aunt Lou and her drunken son showing up unexpectedly, Granddaddy in his wheelchair declaring, “We always thought I would go first, typical of LauraJean to steal my thunder”, and just the general slew of inappropriate comments that occur when you get the clan together.

Then came the funeral. As a solid lifetime member of the church, Grandma decided to forgo the church service in favour of a graveside one (up yours, Southwest Baptist!)…in December, in the wind. We had about 8,000 old biddies and duffers under that little tent out in the cold, waiting for two of her six sons to show. Half an hour later the two (!) ministers look at each other, shrug, and begin. Ten minutes later my uncles show up, buttoning their shirts and flicking away their cigarette butts. Sometimes it’s best not to ask. I’m in the front row with my little cousin wrapped up in my skirt; eyes rolled back in my head, trying to swallow my own tongue…I don’t go in for the Baptist-drone. All of a sudden my phone (with the charming ring tone of Hava Negila) starts to ring. With a shout of “OH SHIT!” I dive to shut it off. A check on the ID showed it to be my best friend, a call later reveled the content of the call, “I knew you’d be feeling down, how about coming over for dinner with my family and some bad porn.” I love my friends.
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 12:43, Reply)
George Micheal
My mates step mum sadly passed to the other side. Everyone was crying at the funeral. Even the local girls who used to go round her's for elicit drinks. As the coffin rolled towards the flames organ music started. It was slow and touching and just when I though the whole room would break a beat kicked in and goerge micheal was singing "well it would be nice, if I could touch your body...." It was bloody faith.

I think people found my laughter innapropriate
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 12:34, Reply)
the FUNeral alternative...
My girlfriends uncle died last week and the funeral is today (about now in fact). I'm supposed to be going but somebody phoned up last night about the car I've got for sale...

Long story short I've just sold the car for cash so am in a pretty good mood. I reckon he knew enough people and doesn't need an extra person to eat sandwiches as a gesture to the fact he's dead. Plus I've now got a pocket full of cash to spend :-)
Next time someone dies, ask yourself "how will you being there help him now?"
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 12:04, Reply)
Cremate me then snort me
I'll give messed up pleasure to my friends even in death.
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 11:20, Reply)
There's been a few posts about having your mortal remains stuffed
And I was all in favour of it, until one of my friends pointed out that I'd be powerless to stop him bumming me. I pointed out that I wouldn't care, I'd be dead, but it might be distressing for my fammily to find that Uncle Emvee has become a posthumous sex-slave...

I'm now warming to Mr Steve's idea below \/
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 10:18, Reply)
sharing the love
After that curious chap with his casserole request, I remembered a plan from way back when. Given I'm planning on cremation, I was hoping one of my chums might skin up a fatty, and sprinkle in some of my ashly remains. Then pass it round the gang, and I live forever in the biomass of my buddies.

It's gotta be better than sitting on a mantelpiece looking like a school sports trophy isn't it?

(, Tue 16 May 2006, 9:52, Reply)
Not too funny but I'm gonna laugh!
Wednesday (tomorrow) I am going to my mothers funeral.

She was an amazing woman who struggled long and hard against cancer and had the most wicked sence of humour!

She decideds months ago that we would play one of her favorate songs at the end of the service, Everybody Hurts by REM.

"Just the thought of everybody i know breaking down to a song about a traffic jam would be bloody marvelous!"
What at woman she were.

Liz Cole, missed by all. (1957 - 2006)
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 9:42, Reply)
the all-inclusive will
in my will i will state that i am atheist and do not want a traditional burial. as my relatives read lower after who the house goes and the car or whatever i will enclose arms and legs to people. why? because i think my leg would be the perfect reach-over-the-fridge device and that my brother could make a puncing bag out of my torso region. As a gag i will instruct my brother to bake my ears and nose into a casserole and hand it to someone i dont like. i just wish that i could be that close to my brother before i die where he would actually do it. and a taxidermist...
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 5:39, Reply)
rest in peace Tony....
we buried my stepdad 3 weeks ago. for someone who spent the last 15 years of his life in a wheelchair (he had muscular dystrophy) and who smoked 40 fags a day, drank vodka/brandy like it was going out of fashion, and spent all his time playing video games. (xbox live handle was bullseyeuk, tonyere and a member of the avit clan) his post mortem showed him to be one of the healthiest people that ever walked (or wheeled) on this earth.
the only thing that was wrong with him was the undetected bloodclot that killed him.

his funeral was like a scene from the godfather. loads of huge blokes (average size in his family is 6 foot 5 and about 18 stone) in black suits and sunglasses. tony loved karaoke, at his service we had song sheets printed out and everyone sung one last song with him. ALL the flowers were in the blue and white of his beloved spurs. and we all got riotously pissed at my mums house after the service.

no funny story here. just a good man who was taken too early and who i loved and will miss forever.

Tony Welch. Requiescat in Pace. im gonna miss you dude. have a cold one waiting for me when its my turn you old fucker
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 5:29, Reply)
My current funeral plans
I have put some major thought into my own funeral as the mourners are just sitting down i want a song by my favourite australian band T.I.S.M to be played, it's called "professor Derrida Deconstructs" it is a slow morbid dirge with the unbeatable chorus of
"I wish I'd slept with more girls
I wish I'd done more drugs
I wish you all go and get fucked."

the rest of the service is a normal catholic type affair, but when they get me to the crematorium as they are sliding my coffin into the pyre i want rage against the machines "sleep now in the fire" to be played at full volume,

Failure to comply to my wishes results in hauntings and general scariness.
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 3:46, Reply)
my grandads funeral
the preist was going on about how everyone loved my grandad and then began reading everyones names out: my gran, my dad, my uncle, my cousins, a load of other family we hadn't really met, me and my sister but forgot to mention my brother. my gran was upset at this and nearly had a go at the preist in the middle of the service, my brother was also most upset that he was forgotten and then proceeded to cry for the next hour or so.
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 3:00, Reply)
got mine planned already
I'm going to swallow a stick of dynamite on my death bed then insist on cremation, see if I can take some of my miserable relatives with me.
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 1:23, Reply)
funeral freaks
My dad died just under 5 years ago, lovely guy who met his end too early. Since he wasn't religious we couldn't really decide what to do at the service so we contacted the Humanist Society.
These people act as speakers in place of a priest and relate the main part of the service. Obviously they didn't know anything about him, so we invited one of them around to the family home so they could write down some info about him.
The bell rings about 8pm and I answer the door to a Mrs Doubtfire lookalike peering at me through her owl like eyes. I invite her in to our sombre sitting room and she places herself directly in front of my nan.
She begins talking in this weird posh old lady voice and I realise my nan is sitting there with a really strange look on her face. I look to where her eyes are pointing to find Mrs Doubtfire has opened her legs as wide as possible and is exposing her revolting stained underwear to full view of the family. At this I start pissing myself with laughter, which infects my sister, mum and brother and ends up with me crying on the kitchen floor. I then had to drive her home with her infecting my car with her weird old lady smell.

After calling the Humanists to tell them she wasn't suitable, they told us they had one more person to see. Cue us turning up to a house in Streatham, knocking on the door and having it answered by a midget with a huge captain birdseye beard and a wooden leg.

My dad would have had a field day.
(, Tue 16 May 2006, 1:19, Reply)

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