When you think ‘The Wall of Comedy’, I know what you’ve been ‘dying’ to read…an article about a Funeral. I’m sorry. That joke was dead.
Nobody likes a funeral. Everyone always says…when I die, I’m going to have a party and I don’t want anyone to cry etc. But it never turns out that way, does it? ‘Wind beneath my wings’ inevitably starts playing, making the hardest nut in there start bawling and wiping his snotty nose on your sleeve.
Personally, I’ve made a best mate promise to wear a pink frilly dress and sing ‘Highway to hell’ as my coffin’s lowered. He’s a 6 ft 8 Northerner. Could be interesting.
Any idea I might have had, however, has been blown out the water by this dude…who ordered strippers for his own funeral without telling any of his family or friends. Strippers.
I’m not even talking your run of the mill stripper who’s ‘using the money to pay her way through uni’, these were ones who fully indulged the act of role playing, dancing around the coffin in next to nothing, giving the old boy one final dance.
I’m trying to think how their casual chat with their partners went that night. “So, honey, what did you get up to at work today?”…“ah well, you know, the usual…the CLASSIC funeral job – what else?”
The best thing about this is how meticulously the bloke planned it. NOBODY knew! Can you imagine? A formal service for you grandad, you’ve put down your classy ‘GRANDPA’ flower bouquet, you’re getting ready to read your little poem about the precious nature of life, then BOOM. Scantily clad women breeze past you and dance around his body. Amazing.
What a hero??? I dunno. Maybe. Probably not. Probably scarred a few people.