Putting the FUN in funerals!

[BomberPat]

2 hours ago, Carbomb said:

That's interesting, as it's possibly answered a question that's bugged me for a while: Kenneth Williams did an interview (I think with Parkinson) in which he got all hufty at being referred to as a "Methodist", saying his family was "strict Wesleyan". As I understood it, the Wesley brothers adopted the term "Methodist" in response to it originally being used mockingly while they were alive, so it seems odd that there would have been that kind of schism so early on.

the village I grew up in had a CoE church, and a Wesleyan Methodist chapel (though I think that has now closed), but the church also had a wooden bust of John Wesley in it, carved from a tree he apparently used to preach under nearby. A number of nearby towns and villages had Methodist chapels too, so it seems to have been a pretty widespread order in those parts, even remaining somewhat integrated into CoE traditions. 

The significant schism for the likes of Kenneth Williams may well have been Primitive Methodism; that was a much more working class movement, with more focus on collectivism and community action. They merged with Wesleyan Methodism in the 1930s, though given Kenneth Williams being the good Tory that he was, I can see that being a point of distinction that his parents would have taken very seriously. 

[Lenin]

Can't do better than Gladiators but at my grandpa's funeral, my uncle got up to say a few words, tripped getting onto the raised platform where the lectern was and in a split second disappeared through a curtain to the left. Unseen by everyone but me and my gran. The gasps as we both erupted in laughter is a sound I'll take to my own grave and still makes me laugh now. 

My uncle is a top seller too as he stayed down for the remainder of the service, only reappearing for the handshakes on the way out. Still hasn't said where he went or what he was doing. 

Edited February 7, 2024 by Lenin

[MFrV1]

My Nan's funeral was last week, and my father decided to see my Grandfather's plot before the service.

As we walked around, we heard a "flap, flap".

Dad's shoes decided to impersonate flip-flops minutes before he was due to carry the coffin.

Dad spent the rest of the day walking around with just card holding his shoes together, hoping nobody would notice.

Not as funny as some of your stories, but a much needed chuckle on the day.

[Joe Blog]

Not my story but my gran once told me a great story about a funeral she attended when she was early teens. To set the scene all of my grans family are extremely religious, including her so funerals were a time for everyone to be serious. 
 

My gran seemingly had a rather ferocious aunty who ruled the family and was very much the Matriarch of the family, she always speaks well of her but made it very clear that she was not to be trifled with. The flip side is that she also had a elderly aunty who gave zero fucks about annoying the Matriarch.

From what I can gather the funeral was for one of the uncles in the family, direct relation to the matriarch aunty and second or third relation to the aforementioned elderly aunty. 

Come funeral day my gran is sat with her favourite cousin as they very Catholic funeral rumbles along. It comes to the point of the coffin being sent through the curtain (I think in those days the coffin was transported on a conveyor belt thing to the crem area but I may be mistaken) either way there is a mechanical fault and the coffin gets stuck half way between the two places, there is an audible gasp from the congregation until a stern glare from the aunty silences everyone, well everyone apart from the elderly aunty who very loudly proclaims “I knew he wouldn’t go, always been a bloody awkward bugger”

My gran and her cousin were doubled over laughing but got a right old bollocking later that day by the more ferocious aunty. 

[SuperBacon]

@Mr_Danger IT HAPPENED!!!

 

[Mr_Danger]

2 hours ago, SuperBacon said:

@Mr_Danger IT HAPPENED!!!

 

I always pictured it being funnier.

[Tim Healys Chutney Spoon]

Been seeing a hilarious story, in a way, doing the rounds on social media at the moment of this funeral being broadcast on Zoom and one of the viewers not realising that a Zoom call is a two way video. The family and service is going along all fine and dandy and this Doris is merrily standing in the shower shaving her armpits and suchlike without a care in the world. 

Apparently she rocked up at the wake nonethewiser and within about 15mins she's balling her eyes out with shame and embarrassment. 

[SuperBacon]

2 minutes ago, Tim Healys Chutney Spoon said:

shaving her armpits

That's not all she was shaving!

[gmoney]

8 minutes ago, Tim Healys Chutney Spoon said:

Been seeing a hilarious story, in a way, doing the rounds on social media at the moment of this funeral being broadcast on Zoom and one of the viewers not realising that a Zoom call is a two way video. The family and service is going along all fine and dandy and this Doris is merrily standing in the shower shaving her armpits and suchlike without a care in the world. 

Apparently she rocked up at the wake nonethewiser and within about 15mins she's balling her eyes out with shame and embarrassment. 

Are you doing exclusively death and funeral content these days? 

[Lion_of_the_Midlands]

12 minutes ago, gmoney said:

Are you doing exclusively death and funeral content these days? 

Hopefully. 

[Tim Healys Chutney Spoon]

42 minutes ago, Lion_of_the_Midlands said:

Hopefully. 

FPL too. Mind you, dying in that too.

 

I can start on other threads too...

[Carbomb]

Grim Healy's Chutney Spoon

[Lion_of_the_Midlands]

Lads, it's happening again...

[Lion_of_the_Midlands]

Well friends I strongly think that the days of what would be considered a normal funeral are gone for me. Never again the black tie/ white shirt combo and everyone mourning, and I for one am not going to miss it. 

Today's was a riot of colour, Hawaiian shirts and neon all around. Its what he would have wanted. Musical choices were unusual, Puff The Magic Dragon and Mmmm Mmmmm Mmmmm were not bets I would have taken but there you go. The coffin was black with colored dots and neon bunting, and a twist. No writing on the coffin this time, instead post it notes to write your message and stick to the coffin. No "Best wishes for the future" today you will be pleased to know. Instead I wrote "Lets forget about the tenner you owe me" which he would have appreciated because he would never have taken the whole thing seriously. As we were coming out of the crem the woman who had done the service from the funeral directors came up to me and said "I know this is an odd question, and she asked me my name. When I told her she said "I thought so,  but I haven't seen you since your Dad's funeral, my dad used to play in a band with your dad" and it turns out he did. Which goes to show what a small world it it I suppose. It turns out her dad is still very much alive, still singing and still the old rogue he was back when I knew him. 

The really unusual bit was the timings. Funeral midday, drinks and sandwiches at the village hall not until 4pm. I've never been to a split funeral before but it did give a few people (Me included) time to have a few sherries in-between. At the wake he was toasted with amaretto shots (His favourite tipple) 

So now I'm home at 7ish on a Friday evening, slightly drunk and thinking about the life of my friend of 30+ years. He was only in his late 50s but he packed a lot into those years. 

 

[JLM]

OK I've got one... 

My stepdad died at the beginning of March. He was 88 and smoked from the age of 17, so not a bad innings. Our relationship was one of just barely hiding our mutual disdain for my ma's benefit, so I haven't been too rocked by  his passing. My role instead has been to look after my mum. My feelings towards him aside, I think many neutral observers would, at their most charitable, still describe the man as a bit of a rascal. One of his favourite things to do in the 80s and 90s was to meet a woman, whirlwind romance them for 6 months, have an accidental baby, marry them because it's "the right thing to do" then fuck off a few years later. He did this four times. My mum was his fifth wife. Thankfully he didn't have another baby with her. 

So yeah, he has four sons with four mums from four marriages. Two of the sons want absolutely nothing to do with him. One of them is some kind of Hollywood suit working on the MCU movies and only responded with a "thanks for letting me know" via his wife when my mum told him of his father's passing. The other is not contactable at all. A third son lives in Australia and was sort of in touch, but not "fly-from-Australia-to-Leeds-for-the-funeral" in touch. Then there was the fourth son. He's 34 now, but he was 5 when my stepdad did his signature ske-dad-dle. He's definitely had it the worst of the four, as my stepdad was in his life for a bit, still kept in touch after the divorce from his mum, but then once that mum got a new partner he was out of there. This has left the poor guy with some issues. My mum desperately tried to convince my stepdad to reach out to this youngest son, as he'd managed to find him on Facebook but my stepdad hadn't replied. They had finally got back in touch and got as far as a video chat about three months before my stepdad died. This might have been even worse for him than not getting back in touch at all, as he's now effectively lost his dad twice. 

So this young man, who I will name Tim for the purposes of this retelling, was the only person anywhere in my stepdad's family (or loosely related to him or friends or anyone else my mum could find) who expressed an interest in attending the funeral. Thankfully he also brought his mum and his sister with him. The sister is not one of my stepdad's kids, they had both just come to support Tim. We were all very grateful to learn that they were coming. The idea of this one bloke turning up on his own as the sole representative of the deceased's biological relatives, not knowing anyone and none of us having much of an idea of what to say to him, was pretty horrible to think about, so the family support buffer was very welcome. 

So Tim turns up. Initially he's very friendly. Little bit intense, but we gave him leeway due to everything I've previously mentioned. He's going through a thing. this day is him working through his thing. He left half way through the funeral service itself as it got a bit much for him. Again, understandable. 

Then we go to the wake at a local pub. It's an afternoon thing, it's mostly my mum's family and friends. I've booked the thing and we're talking afternoon tea. Unlimited tea in fact. Also scones and sandwiches. It's not a get pissed wake. Tim, however, is going through a thing. Tim necks about about six pints in two hours and two shots of brandy. Brandy he says he's made himself because he has his own distillery. Oh yeah, if that didn't make it clear, during this time is when he starts lying. He says he runs Download Festival, he says he attended six universities and got degrees from all of them, he says he also attended other universities but didn't pay and just crashed all the lectures, then he says he doesn't believe in Universities because there aren't any jobs where some piece of paper is what says you can do it, then he says he runs Europe's biggest drug outreach charity. And on it goes. He also offers to "wife swap" with my mum's best friend's husband and starts showing him pictures of his wife. 

He gets into a blazing row with the poor woman behind the bar because he is adamant she's given him too much change. He is adamant he gave her a tenner so there shouldn't be a tenner in his change. She says he gave her a twenty. We eventually manage to talk him down. A couple of hours into this, his mum and his sister go to leave. They ask him to go with them, he says he wants to stay, so they LEAVE HIM WITH US. Absolute Criminals the pair of them. 

He then starts angling to stay the night at my mum's house. He goes out for a cigarette, we talk strategy. My mum has her two best friends and me staying at her house, so we say she can legitimately tell him there isn't space at the house. Pretty kind way to tell him no, we thought. It's not a lie, and it avoids the "we don't actually know you plus you're off your head right now" conversation. 

So he comes back in, he brings up staying over again. My mum goes "I'm sorry Tim but I have all these people staying at my house looking after me, so we just don't have the space". Tim goes "I'll make it work!"  

This is a level of social terrorism we are not prepared for. My mum's eyes, wide as saucers, stare over his shoulder at me and her best friends. We all collectively freeze in panic. Tim is coming back to the house. He's not staying over, we know this, but nobody is willing to tell him to fuck off  because he's going through his thing. 

Tim then comes and sits at my table. He goes "so if my dad is your step dad, are we STEP BROTHERS?"  I got nothing. I just sort of mumble "errm I suppose we sort of are". This leads to the birth of my new nickname, which my ma and her best friends and my attending family members will never let me forget. He calls me "Steppy". Then he shouts this at me every few minutes for the rest of the day. "HEY STEPPY!" Fucking hell. 

So myself and my cousin, feeling guilty about ducking and covering when the "I'll make it work" bomb was dropped, decide to try and help a bit. We offer to take Tim back to the house so he doesn't go in the same car as my mum. On this journey, Tim opens the door of the moving car to throw up all over the road twice. He does it again when we stop at traffic lights. He then spends the rest of the trip insisting that he's not drunk. 

This actually ends up buying him more staying time because nobody wants to send him back on his train drunk. So he stays at my mum's for about six more hours until he's coherent again. I take my ma aside, I suggest she makes him a little take away box of mementos from my stepdad's room and then we finally tell him it's probably time for him to go. So my ma gives him some of my stepdad's old RAF stuff, some antique lighters, AM radio equipment, all kinds of shit, the man was a relentless hoarder. She also gives him an amateur radio club baseball cap. Then when Tim next goes to the toilet, the council of remaining family all agree that my mum will ask if anyone wants any more food and we will all say no and make moves to wrap up the evening. Then she can say "OK I think everyone's heading to bed now Tim" and then drive him to the station. Thankfully this worked. My mum (with both of her best friends in the car) drove Tim to the train station and sent him on his way. He was wearing the  ill-fitting amateur radio club baseball cap for the whole journey, which was an almost unbearably tragic visual. 

So errrrm, don't have loads of kids and then run away. Also most of my family calls me Steppy now. 

Edited May 15, 2025 by JLM