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Funeral shenanigans


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I had to arrange my partners grand funeral last year. She had a couple of small policies to cover the expenses but the insurer wouldn't let us know how much (think it was about four weeks later). As she didn't have any money just living on a state pension, I was going to cover any shortfall.

So we arranged it without being too miserly as my partners mum knew the score she didn't go overboard with extra cars or fancy stuff (although at £3500 it wasn't cheap). We turned up to the hotel for refreshments after the funeral to find soup spoons on the tables. Soup was an extra that we had not asked for but the mourners now had it in their heads soup was coming, I had to offer to cover this to prevent a mini riot which I could see brewing.

It didn't bother me too much what's an extra £80-100 in the scheme of things. No, what got me were the folk that we didn't really know turning up for lunch.

Turned out the policies managed to cover everything almost to the penny despite having been taken out 40 years ago.

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It didn't bother me too much what's an extra £80-100 in the scheme of things. No, what got me were the folk that we didn't really know turning up for lunch.

I know a lot of professional mourners.

Seems they're keen on a good spread and a few hours paid leave.

I myself have only went to the wake when it's mine or her family.

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Was he genuinely in the navy or was this some sort of mix up?

 

He was in the Merchant Navy for quite a few years. About the only thing you could ever get him to talk about, apart from Third Lanark. The song had been requested by the family, and it was a humanist funeral, so none of that depressing religious shite.

 

Hence the old joke that if Four Weddings and a Funeral had been set in the Highlands, it would have been called 'Five Co-op Purveys'.

 

My ex-wife managed to overtake the hearse on the way to her cousin's burial, a trick my current partner nearly repeated on the way to crematorium at my mother's funeral.

 

This happened while I was in a car on the way to the funeral of my exes gran. Some daft we boy in a souped up Corsa pulled out and went by the whole procession of cars at a fair speed. One of the cousins took exception, pulled out and went after the boy. Never found out what happened.

Edited by Ross.
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Having spent the past few days organising a funeral for a close family member, I have been amazed at the shit people come out with.

 

"It's what he/she would have wanted" relating to anything that gets decided, people the deceased hadn't met for 20+ years seem to know "what they would have wanted" - Utter nonsense.

 

"They are at rest now" - yup, because they are dead, they are most likely "at rest"

 

"they are in a better place" - What? In a box in the ground instead of with their family? - f**k right off

 

"At least they are not in pain" - Again, that's right because they are dead.

 

Are you speaking at the service?

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This happened while I was in a car on the way to the funeral of my exes gran. Some daft we boy in a souped up Corsa pulled out and went by the whole procession of cars at a fair speed. One of the cousins took exception, pulled out and went after the boy. Never found out what happened.

 

Must still be living or you would have had another funeral to go to.

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Last one I was at I got a couple of tough looks for laughing at the purple headed mountain line in All Things Bright and Beautiful.

 

"All Things Bright And Beautiful" at a funeral?

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Without wanting to sound insensitive, it is an utter disgrace to offer anything other than steak pie at a funeral.

 

My dad actually has it written into his will that steak pie must be served at his!

 

I was reliably assured by my pal that this was a sectarian divide, and weirdly, I've never found anything to the contrary in the half dozen funerals I've been to. Prods have soup, sandwiches and sausage rolls, catholics have steak pie.

Your old man is plainly sound either way, but. I'd be skimping on the coffin in lieu of better scran for sure.

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I was reliably assured by my pal that this was a sectarian divide, and weirdly, I've never found anything to the contrary in the half dozen funerals I've been to. Prods have soup, sandwiches and sausage rolls, catholics have steak pie.

Your old man is plainly sound either way, but. I'd be skimping on the coffin in lieu of better scran for sure.

 

Kaffliks don't take soup.

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I was reliably assured by my pal that this was a sectarian divide, and weirdly, I've never found anything to the contrary in the half dozen funerals I've been to. Prods have soup, sandwiches and sausage rolls, catholics have steak pie.

Your old man is plainly sound either way, but. I'd be skimping on the coffin in lieu of better scran for sure.

I'd actually go with that.

I've never seen steak pie at a funeral.

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I mind one time going to the funeral of an elderly uncle in farming country in N. Ireland. 

 

It started off in the house. I'm not in the door 30 seconds and the daughter of the deceased says "Would you like to see him?". I could hardly say "No, I don't want to see your dead dad". So we trooped up the stairs and into their bedroom, peered inside the coffin for what I hoped was a reverential amount of time, then came out with one of those platitudes that Romeo so hates "He looks so peaceful". 

 

I also got roped into carting the coffin up the road ... it's known as a "lift" ... for some reason, you change to a different gang of lifters every 100 yds or so. Of course, because it was down a country road, there was a queue of tractors, buses and cars stretching back half a mile. 

 

We had a service in the house. Hopped into the hearse / our cars, then zipped across to the church for the funeral about 10 miles away. Then back into the motors to hot-foot it to the cemetery for another long drawn-out service. Then it's back to the house for yet another round of prayers and eulogies. And not a drop of alcohol was served. 

 

That was a long day. 

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Struggled to hold it together at my Grandad's funeral. My dad's eldest brother had organised it and had got a minister, despite it being many years since my Grandad had ever set foot in a church. The minister was from The Foundry Lad's Church and looked as if he was 105. My Dad and Uncles were all in the front pew, while me and my cousins ended up in a side pew right next to the minister. All was going well until we had the first hymn and it turned out the minister was possibly the worst singer I've ever heard, absolutely comically bad. I could hear one of my cousins stifling the giggles and it took a lot of willpower and lip biting to stop myself from bursting out laughing.

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I mind one time going to the funeral of an elderly uncle in farming country in N. Ireland. 

 

It started off in the house. I'm not in the door 30 seconds and the daughter of the deceased says "Would you like to see him?". I could hardly say "No, I don't want to see your dead dad". So we trooped up the stairs and into their bedroom, peered inside the coffin for what I hoped was a reverential amount of time, then came out with one of those platitudes that Romeo so hates "He looks so peaceful". 

 

I also got roped into carting the coffin up the road ... it's known as a "lift" ... for some reason, you change to a different gang of lifters every 100 yds or so. Of course, because it was down a country road, there was a queue of tractors, buses and cars stretching back half a mile. 

 

We had a service in the house. Hopped into the hearse / our cars, then zipped across to the church for the funeral about 10 miles away. Then back into the motors to hot-foot it to the cemetery for another long drawn-out service. Then it's back to the house for yet another round of prayers and eulogies. And not a drop of alcohol was served. 

 

That was a long day. 

 

Did you not get any sandwiches, sausage rolls, tray bakes and tea? Poor show.

 

A relation of my wife's died and I was despatched to represent "the family", despite the fact I'd never met the man, nor, indeed, most of his family. The house was that packed I couldn't get in for the service in the house. Off to the church, it was a Free Presbyterian funeral, so we got another  barn storming sermon in the church service. Then outside to bury him, and we got another service at the graveside. We were ready for our tea and sandwiches by the time we got him planted, I can tell you. 6 hours between the service in the house and the committal, and we only had to travel about 1 mile from his house to the church.

 

Whenever I got home I told my wife that whenever she went I was getting Rev McCrea to conduct the funeral as "you get your moneys worth with the free ps".

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