always look on the birght side of life
i also have been to an funeral where bright side of life has been played,
it was one of my friends dads, and ofcourse all throughout the funeral, we and my friends from sixth form were weeping gently, cause her dad was a great guy. make our way to the cremating place. bit more weeping. coffin goes down, song starts playing
im stnading there along with the rest of my mates trying as hard as possible not to smirk, giggle or burst out laughing, which none of us did very well
it was a catholic funeral as well.
wonder if you can go to hell for giggling quite loudly in a funeral?
(bryony*niamh kneecaps exist to be hit with clawhammers., Thu 11 May 2006, 14:54, Reply)

To quote the Cat:
"Sure it's bad news for him. But on the other hand it's party time for all the little worms!"

I went to my uncle's funeral a few years ago and the vicar was rubbish - essentially he was reading from a cheat sheet and filling in the blanks:
"Terrence was well liked by his colleagues in the... fishing community" which I found pretty amusing. I thought long and hard about standing up during the service and shouted "GERROF MATE, YOU'RE SHIT", but decided that have may been a tad cold.


I was all serious for once, Christ knows how I avoided making any jokes about Holly and Jessica there.
(misteroz, Thu 11 May 2006, 14:53, Reply)

Was my Gran's funeral, rest her soul, all very sombre and sad. After, the whole family troops back to my parents house for a chat and that whole comfort thing. Except my brother decides to stomp into the biggest, sloppiest, smelliest dog poo on his way in. To this day, the sight of my dad scrubbing away at this series of horrific brown smears on the cream carpets gets me smirking.
( Pineapplez, Thu 11 May 2006, 14:41, Reply)

Some of my family are funeral directors,
and I have filled in as a driver the odd time, and one thing that always bugged us was the lack of any stereo systems in the cars... it was all well and good having that last "peaceful journey" but it did not half make a boring one for us (especially on the return trip) One day, faced with the daunting task of taking one deceased person to the only crematorium over here (rose lawn in Belfast) a nice round trip of almost 100 miles - we thought, sod it and took one of those "ghetto blasters" that were all the rage back in the 80's, and hid it behind the front seats.
So the journey up was not so peaceful after all for the recently departed but I am sure they would have enjoyed the wondrous sounds that was a mixture of 80's & 90’s Electronic stuff.

Now.. We used C90 tapes, and you know that sometimes there is a bit of a gap at the end, (not enough for a full song) but we would just leave it running as the auto reverse thingy usually kicked in.. (There was some tape gap sensor as well..)
Anyway... we dropped off the coffin and parked the hearse around the side, and as usual on a hot day left the windows open.
Cue the tape player kicking in David bowies “ashes to ashes” just as the people were walking back to their cars with their loved one in a little jar.. Lucky enough there were quite a few cars there, and they could not quite work out where it was coming from.. although the sight of a funeral directors assistant running at full pelt towards the hearse may have gave the game away…
There are plenty of other stories, like the time my uncle drove back from the morgue with the wrong coffin, and nobody realised until they had carried the damn thing up 3 flights of stairs for the wake. And another when the new driver discovered he was allergic to moss (the stuff they put in the rings of wreaths) and the one time the gravedigger had not dug the grave wide enough, and everybody had to wait 30 minutes while they franticly re-dug the hole with shovels…. I could fill a book me.
:-)
( TBL I posted this on, Thu 11 May 2006, 14:32, Reply)

Bad news
At university I was told there were a couple of messages for me in reception.

The receptionist said, "Oh yes, Browser; there's a message saying you're going to fail the year unless you get your constitutional law essay in by the end of the week. Oh and one more.. oh. Your grandad's dead".

We both laughed nervously. But I can't believe my dad just left a message.

"Hello, yes. A message for Browser - his grandfather has died. Yes, that's right. Died. Yup, cheers then, bye".
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 11 May 2006, 14:31, Reply)

Don't stop me now...
My mates funeral, back in November, was the hardest thing I've ever had to go through. He died in very tragic circumstances, and it took weeks before we could bury him as his death was being investigated by the MoD.

Anyway, the funeral itself was, to be frank, fucking awesome. They had to close the shopping 'centre' (those that know Reddish in Stockport know what I mean... hardly a commercial epicentre is it?!) becuase of the 300 Royal Marines marching to the church. The uligy (sp?) was terrific, he had teh bugle call thing, a 12 gun salute (or is it ten? I forget...) and I learnt so much about my dearly missed friend.

His send off tune was Don't Stop Me Know, and I can't hear it without filling up then burtsing out laughing. We all went to the boozer afterwards, but there were so many of us we went to the offy next door for beer becuse the que for the bar was immense.

Fast forward 6 hours to a local kareoke spot, and 20 odd pissed up lads in suits belting out our mates anthem.

An horrific day for what we went through, but strangely a beautiful day...

Pax Vobisum, Ste. Love you and miss you.
(The Splendid Oaf, Thu 11 May 2006, 14:31, Reply)

Dad had just died otherwise we wouldn't be burying him...
... a good man, true and just. An aunty I had never met took me to one side and expressed her sorrow followed by "your uncle died of bowel cancer too, so did your Grandad. I think it got his brother too. Anyway, I thought the service was very touching." To which I replied "yes, it was. If it's my turn next you can come to mine if you like."

Didn't hear from Aunty Death again, which is at once a good thing and an ominous portent.

Another uncle turned up at the service. I hadn't seen him since I was eight years old. No questions needed to be asked... he had obviously spent the 22 year absence growing the biggest comb-over since Gene Wilder put Baby Bio on his head to encourage growth. Uncle Ron then sat directly in front of me... and sang 'Lord of the Dance' with Blessed-worthy LOUDNESS just so Dad could hear him way up there in heaven. My dear-departed Dad may also have heard a much-needed fit of giggles from his son and, I'd like to think, smiled a fond smile.
(Error 404 - Username Unknown, Thu 11 May 2006, 14:24, Reply)

'Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life'
is, folk knowledge has it, often played at funerals nowadays.

I haven't met anyone who's heard it at one so I was sceptical until yesterday, when I was taking my aul' folks to see family graves.

We saw a gravestone with 'Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life' carved on it. I laughed my head off and was whistling the song all the way home.

I do have a photo of it, discreetly cropped, to post as evidence.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 11 May 2006, 14:24, Reply)

Well it was a weird do
I travelled to my Mothers funeral in a cab and remember hearing Coldplays The Scientist for the first time on the radio and tears falling down my face for the duration of the entire journey [Google the lyrics it would make the length unacceptable for you if I were to included them here]
We hadn't spoken for five years despite me trying to build bridges when I'd heard she had cancer and was dying. All she said on the phone when I called her was, 'I'm busy and can't talk right now'
I loved her, I miss her, and wish more than anything we'd made our peace before she died.
Anyhoo at the wake which was held in a pub in Beckton, a Charlie Chalks franchise as it happens, there were balloons filled with helium.
My last memory of my Mothers life is of me, my [that day] reunited brother and sister and several other forks of our family tree singing Barry Manilow songs in squeaky heliumed up voices.

It's what she would have wanted. It was a good do
(irrationallogic, Thu 11 May 2006, 14:07, Reply)

Irony
A few years ago my grandmother died at the ripe old age of 87. She had 6 children and most of them went on to have quite a few of their own, so the number of extended family (not to mention friends) coming was really quite large. So, the funeral was planned as a two-part affair - a smaller service at the crematorium, followed by a big memorial service that everyone could come to the following afternoon.

So the closer friends and family gathered for the cremation, and it was a suitably sad and touching affair. We watched her coffin disappear behind the curtain, but little did we know that granny still had one trick up her sleeve.

The following morning everyone gathered for the memorial service, when the aunt who had been arranging the funeral got a rather frantic phone call from the funeral director. You see, when the deceased disappears behind the curtain at a cremation, they don't go straight in the furnace - they're stored in the back and all the bodies are cremated at the end of the day.

And at some point the previous evening while they were getting ready to do the actual cremation, the crematorium had caught fire and burned down. The director inquired if we still wanted to go ahead with the memorial - and of course we did. Granny had always had quite a finely developed sense of irony, and this certainly lightened the whole mood. And we got the whole thing for free in the end too thanks to the mishap.
( kingofpork is the king of pork, Thu 11 May 2006, 14:07, Reply)

Mad Monks and drunk Nuns
I used to be an Altar Server (ever since the first day the Catholic Church allowed girls to become Altar Servers), so I have seen a fair few funerals in my time.

The best one, was at a former Abbey, and was the funeral of a Priest. I was in my usual role as an Altar Server, in fact the only one. The other people on the Altar were the Priest, and a Monk. He was a bit crazy. There was also a disabled woman sitting at the front of the church, who somehow ended up with 4 of the same hymn book.

The Monk, being a bit crazy, and having posession of the incense swinger, noticed it wasn't smoking enough. He took me outside, and proceeded to swing this thing round, and round above his head. It started smoking. In fact, it was smoking so much the entire Altar area almost disappeared in smoke.

After the actual funeral was over, we were all going into the Abbey for food and booze, when my Mother noticed a particularly old Nun rushing past, looking a little distressed. My Mother stopped her to ask if she was okay.

Her response?
"Oh yes, I'm just here for the Sherry!"
(Oinster, Thu 11 May 2006, 14:02, Reply)

Sorry Gran....
Anybody remember when Nick Hancock used to present Room 101 on BBC2? Well, picture the scene...... There I was, at the young age of 10, sitting quietly next to my 12 year old cousin at the crematorium.

My Gran's coffin was placed delicately on the conveyor belt and red velvet curtains automatically wrapped around it to obscure it from view. Just as the priest finished his service, you could hear the conveyor starting to move...

Cue me and my cousin... "pfft Room 101, Room 101, Room 101" as the theme tune went. I still have memories of my older cousin turning around to us, mascara running down her face, and the most evil stare possible. Oops.
(silkysean pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, Thu 11 May 2006, 14:01, Reply)

Simple really

If God hadn't intended people to snigger like Beavis & Butthead at funerals he wouldn't get the priest to say the word 'succour'.

Twice.

That is all.
( Geoff the Clownfish You know Myra, some people might think you're cute, Thu 11 May 2006, 13:56, Reply)

My friend Harry
When the uncle of my mate Harry died, the funeral directors asked the family if there was any particular piece of music they would like played in the crematorium. As the uncle was a fan of popular gosple music they requested "Oh Happy Days" by the Statler Brothers (it was sung in one of the Sister Act films).

At the end of the funeral, everyone stood in solem respect as the coffin moved down the conveyor belt and the music started, "MONDAY TUESDAY, HAPPY DAYS, WEDNESDAY THURSDAY, HAPPY DAYS"....*







*Didn't happen. Thankyou to Mr. H Hill for the anecdote.
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Thu 11 May 2006, 13:55, Reply)

First post
so be gentle.

Grandad died when I was about 12. Wasn't allowed to go to the funeral, despite the fact that we were extremely close, so instead I had to go to school. Wandering around in a daze, one kid decided to take the p1ss out of it being his funeral. Next thing I know, he's on the floor, I'm on top of him trying to beat the snot out of him. It took three teachers to pry me off him.

A few years back, his wife (my nan) died. I was asked to be a pallbearer, but declined. My brother decided to do it. On the way to the grave, he decided to announce loudly that "she's a heavy old bird ain't she?"

apologies for crapness, I'm an amateur.

Pup
(pup, Thu 11 May 2006, 13:52, Reply)

Weird traditions
I lived in Southall when I was little. For those not in the know, Southall is a little suburb of West London populated almost entirely by Indians and Pakistanis. We were the only white family down our street and I was completely fluent in Hindi until we moved elsewhere. In fact, one of my earliest memories is of singing "Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" in Hindi to a bunch of amazed elderly ladies. Anyway, it was a really friendly little community, we were totally welcome, and I was completely in love with all things Asian - the food, the clothes, everything was so much more fun than English culture. That is, except the funeral arrangements.

A Hindu boy in my class told me about how, at his grandfather's funeral, he had had to place a coin in the corpse's mouth. This was to facilitate his entry into heaven. Apparently, the keeper of the pearly gates won't let Hindus in unless they hand over some moolah. Can you imagine anything more traumatising for a five-year-old boy than to be told that if they don't stick their fingers in a dead body's mouth, Grandad won't be able to get into heaven?
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Thu 11 May 2006, 13:45, Reply)

A friend of mine...
attended his Uncle's funeral at the impressionable age of 6. As the coffin was lowered slowly into the grave, he mistook the priest's sombre words "Unto the father, the son and unto the holy ghost" for "Unto the father, the son, and into the hole he goes"!
( smello, Thu 11 May 2006, 13:30, Reply)

My family generally have a good wake after a funeral
and my auntie's was no exception.

We all rolled up at the pub and filled the place, and were soon drying our eyes and admiring one another's new babies, engagement rings, cars etc, eating and drinking and generally having a ball.

The food at our table ran out so I popped over to the bar and picked up another huge tray of sarnies.

'Sorry, you can't have those!' said the barmaid. 'They're for the funeral!'

Puzzled, I looked around for what I assumed was the 'other' funeral. 'Are there two funerals in, then?' I asked.

'No,' she said, 'only one. I dunno who all these other people are, but that table in the corner must be the funeral. Poor things, don't they look sad? I do feel sorry for them.'

It seemed too complicated to explain that they were the only non-funeral guests in the pub, so I said, OK, sorry...

and sent someone else for the food.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 11 May 2006, 13:29, Reply)

Not mine, but a mates
(unlurk)
My friends mum died last year quite suddenly, at the time my mate was going through a rock kinda phase and some how managed to slip Ozzy's track "See You On The Other Side" as one of the songs they played.

I can still remember it now, he was in tears, me nearly so and then the song played, both myself and mate looked at each other and grinned the biggest grin possible, it really changed the whole mood of the ceremony.

Afterwards we both had lots of people telling him how good the song was, it made people stop mourning and start celebrating her life.

(/unlurk)
(theyerack, Thu 11 May 2006, 13:25, Reply)

Quaker Funeral
If you've ever been to a quaker funeral/memorial, you'll know that they all (about 100 of them) like to sit in seats in a kind of 4 - row circle, all facing each other.

This was the position we (me, my wife and my brother) found ourselves in when we went to a distant relative's memorial. We were about 2 rows back to be exact. This obviously had the makings of one of 'those' situations - especially when it was announced that there was going to be 1 hour of complete silence for everyone to sit there in quiet contemplation. During this time it was OK for anyone to stand up and say whatever came into their heads about the recently deceased.

So, the silent bit started. After about 20 minutes, much to our amusement, some mad old lady stood up suddenly, pontificated about the deceased for about a minute, and then suddenly sat down again as if nothing had happened. It was like she was on a spring or something. This was followed by various oddball characters doing the same - virtually none of who we had seen before in our lives. Then it went quiet again. We managed to hold it together thoughout.

We held it together for about 50 minutes, and just when we thought we were out of the woods, soem old guy about 2 people away started to snore. We were in trouble and we knew it. My sides felt like they were going to rip open. Then, he let out the most enormous, rippling fart I have ever heard. My brother lost it completely and started openly sniggering. It was terrible. Th whole room was looking at us.

I got away virtually unscathed though, apart from the large hole I had bitten in my bottom lip.


By the way. When I get cremated, I want the theme from countdown to play when the curtains open and my coffin goes in. Or alternatively, the Pearl and Dean tune.

ba-ba ba-ba ba-ba ba-ba bada-ba
ba-ba ba-ba ba-ba ba-baaaaaa-AA!

*curtains shut*
(8-Ball, Thu 11 May 2006, 13:24, Reply)

My grandfathers ashes...
..were scattered on a cricket pitch where he had worked. It was a windy day in November, some of him went in my eye.
(abristolian, Thu 11 May 2006, 13:17, Reply)

A baby's funeral is a terrible thing -
nothing funny about it all.

Many years ago, after my tiny nephew's funeral, I was walking through town when one of those clipboard women approached me.

'Cheer up! she called out gaily. 'You look as if you've been to a funeral!'

It had to be done. I replied, 'I have, actually. A baby's.'

Her face was, as they say, 'a picture.'

The funeral flowers were many and beautiful, so I discreetly took photos of them.

When the pictures came back (they still had to be developed in those days) they were really gorgeous - lots of rattles and teddies and so on made of flowers. Heartbreaking really.

I showed them to my then husband, saying, DON'T mention them until someone says 'I wish we had a photo of those lovely flowers...'

As he was horrified that I'd taken the photos in the first place, he gladly kept shtum.

Seven long years later, his mother said 'You know, I wish I had a photo of...' and he was able to produce them with a flourish, and incidentally take all the credit. Bastard.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 11 May 2006, 13:14, Reply)

C'mon baby light my fire...
Got into trouble with the wife at her father's funeral last year.
Quite often on long boring journeys, or while drunk, the wife and I compile playlists; Best movie themes, best rock ballads, top singalong hits and recently least appropriate songs for funerals and cremations.

Crematorium chapel near Oxford, the Father-in-law's coffin is retreating behind the curtains on the way to the burners and the missus fixes me with such a stare as I whistle or hum my way through "Come on baby light my fire", "Relight my fire" and "Feeling hot, hot, hot"
(lardyboy Next stop, Fissplap Central, Thu 11 May 2006, 13:03, Reply)

getting rid of those ashes.....
My friends father died. The last time she saw him she was about 7 and he was beating up her mother. So, 20 something years later she still didn't like him much, but was the last next of kin and had to dispose of his ashes. It was when wine was cheaper in France than the UK and so she decided to go on a cross channel wine shopping trip and empty the ashes over the side in the middle of the channel. It was a windy day, though, and they all blew back over the deck and interested onlookers.
Another ashes one. Friend working for the FCO occassionally has to dsipose of foreign nationals when there's no one back in the UK, or the rellies just find it too expensive to ship back. He was driving round with a bottle of ashes in the back of the car every weekend for months, as every time he got to some scenic spot and tried to empty it out, a crowd of fascinated Chinese just appeared out of nowhere....
(cherrypie, Thu 11 May 2006, 12:59, Reply)

Don't be cheap...
Mate of my dad's is a funeral director, and when he isn't telling horror stories about why you should own a motorbike (apparantly the bodies just fall apart when they scrap them off the road), he can be quiet amusing. His latest concerns what are best described as Value Funerals.

To save money, you can get sent off in an economy coffin. While the top of the coffin looks all nice and proper, the botton is just a piece of manky plyboard (think Changing Rooms quality). It's cheap, it's sturdy, it burns, it decays. Only thing it doesn't do is hold a nail very well...

The sight of the floor ripping away and the body crash landing as it's carried from the hearse is not uncommon apparantly.

He didn't tell me what they do next, but my own imagination has them tipping it over, bundling the body in and then dragging it in, just like when a cardboard box gives way.

How very dignified.
(Hampton St.Roker (has probably had your mum), Thu 11 May 2006, 12:59, Reply)

Years ago when I lived in the country
we had no car, only motorbikes, and no central heating, only a paraffin heater.

So all the shopping had to be carried home in a rucksack,including paraffin and groceries. The paraffin always seemed to leak so you couldn't carry it with food.

One time, I had to bring home the paraffin with the groceries as the boyf was busy arranging his mother's funeral.

So... next morning we had toast for breakfast before setting off across the country in a mate's car for the funeral.

The bread tasted faintly of paraffin and we thought, well, that wasn't too bad!

However, after an hour in the back of the mate's jalopy, I was green with travel-sickness and began doing that discreet dry-retching thing, bringing up the smell and taste of paraffin.

By the time we reached the crem I was reeling with nausea and had to rush behind a bush to throw up what tasted like a pint of paraffin.

The service itself was a nightmare, as I could still smell and taste the dreadful stuff.

In my distress, I became sure that paraffin was the fuel of choice for rural Welsh cremations, in a sort of Bank Of The Ganges tribute.

Even now, a whiff of the stuff has me heaving.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 11 May 2006, 12:43, Reply)

Me Aunties funeral
.....terrible business, she had throat cancer, had that treated by radiotherapy and got a brain tumour, dead two weeks later....anyhoo, made a clanger by saying to her recently widowed husband "great to see you again" as we walked through the door of his house on the morning of the funeral, he looked.....stunned.

Funniest part (sorry Aunty) was after the service, we were talking to all of our family which went on for ages, when my bro and I turned around to see a thick plume of black smoke pouring out of the crematoriums chimney, not wanting me old man to get a lung full of his dearly departed sister we made excuses and shuffled everyone back to the car park...im sure they knew though.

We still laugh about it now...I think ? Well I do.
(Smellyape liking http://www.b3ta.com/bpma/, Thu 11 May 2006, 12:42, Reply)

Too fat to be buried
A friend died, a rather large gentleman and a special coffin had to be made to fit him inside. Unfortunately the grave was dug to the standard council grave-hole dimensions and when the coffin was lowered it just stuck at a tilted angle in the top. The pall-bearers tugged on the ropes and a spade was used to lever the coffin back out again when it popped open and his corpse flopped onto the grass.
( Brandy_Bumwinkle, Thu 11 May 2006, 12:39, Reply)

blackberries
When I was working on the railway it was a dull job but we made the most of it with some good and sometimes dark humour.
One particular day we were sitting in the office when the chat turned to death and that one of our 'coloured' colleagues father had recently passed on.
"Oh yeah, Harold's got the day off for the funeral tommorrow" says one of our lads, quick as a flash our supervisor with his cheeky grin said "Blimey, he's getting the day off just for black-burying"…
( Kuroi Kyo Still here after all this time., Thu 11 May 2006, 12:32, Reply)