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.
(drshipman iz in yr shower killing yr nan, Tue 16 May 2006, 1:19, Reply)