Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Thursday, 18 October 2012
Yet more humour
I was going to take down the last couple of posts, but now that John has put up a link to them (thank you) I'll leave them where they are.
His subject matter about the humorous funeral reminded me of Joe Orton's filmed funeral where everyone is chasing an out-of-control hearse at about 80 mph, and also of the story below - which I know I already told a couple of years ago, but am putting up for the sake of anyone who has not heard it, or just forgotten it due to old age.
An old boy who was a member of the shooting club that I am about to un-join, died a few years ago, and his family came up with a novel way of scattering his ashes.
About twenty of us shooters all stood in a line next to a field, with muzzell-loading shotguns, or breech-loading ones with cartridges filled with the what was left of the deceased member, as his entire family looked on in silence.
At a given signal, the gun on the end of the line fired and as soon as he did so, the gun next to him fired, and so on down the line in a sustained volley which took about a minute.
As always happens with the scattering of loved-one's ashes, the wind was against us and by the time we had all discharged our weapons, we were covered in head to foot with the old boy and looked like we had spent the day in a flour-mill.
We then had to wait in line as his widow thanked and shook the hand of each us, trying not to laugh.
As the four generations of his family got into their cars to leave, someone quietly started singing, "I'm going to wash that man right out of my hair..."