Funerals - A Conveyor Belt of Death
We are all going to go at some stage - although only our maker knows when, but sure enough one day you will end up in a padded box, that is unless a Government agent blows the crap out of you pretending to be a Muslim. (Yes, it really is the government who are creating all the terrorism.)
I have had the unfortunate task of attending two funerals in the last 6 weeks and it got me thinking of what a cash cow and how uniform the whole process is.
I will focus my attention on a cremation - after all that os what shpuld happen for eveyone - Bollocks to all that shit about being buried - The land is for the living - Graveyards should be banned, but that is an argument for another day.
The Cremation Service - Bog standard in and out
So your standard cremation consists of a bit of music, a few words from a friend or relative; a vicar then says a few words, then, there is a bit more music, some more words, some bullshit prayers and then the final music.
That’s it, job done, lights out and onto the next one.
So let us stop there and consider.
Let us consider how much each funeral costs and how much time you actually get in a council run crematorium.
For my Mum’s funeral I think we had a whole 25 minutes - In fact we were being hurried out as the final tune was being played. Well here’s the thing - I didn’t want to leave at that time - I was thinking of my Mother. In fact I would have been in no rush to leave when the music stopped, but there we were being beckoned out by The Undertaker. I will add that it was not the fault of the undertaker that we were being horded it. I can lay that blame at the feet of the local council.
Our local crematorium is undergoing a makeover; one of the chapels is being renovated - so it leaves a borough that has a population of over 100,000 down to a single chapel - What this means is that all the poor people who are mourning the death of a friend or loved one have literally a few minutes in what seems a very rushed service.
After we left the chapel the usual mingling took place, but then guess what, we were moved on then as the next cremation was nearly over and the area was required.
What a frikking nerve - But it is indicative of the complete trash that run our local councils. The twits who work for the councils could not run a bath, let alone a cremation service.
So after we have been raped of cash by the government and local government all our lives, the wankers want it over and done with in the quickest time line possible, after all at this stage we are no good to them we cannot physically pay them anymore cash - now the government vultures will be after the will!
Written by MrCrip on February 9th, 2007 with
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#1. August 18th, 2008, at 10:11 PM.
I spend the day in a crematorium doing portable appliance testing for the council. It was crap, I thought that once the box goes through the curtain, it carried on into the furnace but no. It basically stops and a buzzer goes off. Then a fat lad and a weird looking fellow lift it off the belt at the back and bring it down to a bank of furnaces. They get sort of batch cooked a few at a time all be it in seperate ovens.
Mind you, gas prices being what they are, it can’t be helped I suppose.
It’s a final humilation for fatties as they have to get stoked around a bit by the weird looking bloke who chuckles a lot about how much longer they take.
I was only a young lad when I went there and it was grim. Stay infront of the curtain and don’t wander about lest you see fat bloke heating up his Ginsters on top of the furnaces or even worse - the crazy chapel assistant, who from the relative seclusion of the music booth, dances wildly and slaps his buttocks as he mimes along energetically to ‘Angels by Robbie Williams.
If you’re really up your own arse and honestly think people will remember you in a year, you can have ‘everybody hurts’ by REM. But crazy chapel man will think you’re a wanker and will raise his level of disrespect accordingly. He’ll be right too - it means you’re one of those ‘I’m fantastic, I’ll be missed and everyone’s life will be tragic now people’.
No, you’re just a cock. You’ll still burn the same. Unless you’re fat.