The best funeral I've been to was of a colleague of Mrs Vagabond.
He'd escaped persecution under Castro to Britain, where he'd built a life for himself, never forgetting his roots.

He was a lovely, lovely man, and his funeral consisted of us gathering at a parlour, where he was in an environmentally-friendly wicker coffin. According to his wishes, his son did a quick eulogy of his relationship with his father, and we were then invited to listen to a track by Manu Chao that he was fond of and thought we should all listen to.

Then to the pub to drink the substantial tab he'd put behind the bar.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 11 Apr 2013, 14:44, Reply)