I’m planning to put some fun in funeral

UNFORTUNATELY, I have been at far too many funerals in recent times. And it got me thinking about my mortality and what I’d like to happen at mine when the time comes.

I wonder what kind of a turnout I’ll have. Will it be possible to count the mourners on one hand? I’m not a member of any club. Between now and that day I’m going to have to join a few. Drum up a bit of support.

I’m lucky enough to know my undertaker. He has been given instructions at various intervals throughout the years. All when drink was involved. I hope he has remembered the light tan and the cleavage with the fur coat slightly open to reveal said same cleavage. Fur coat and no knickers. A string of pearls to add a little decorum and class as the only fur coat I have is a Bet Lynch leopard print number.

I want Westlife to reconvene and sing You Raise Me Up and I want the Chippendales or a similar gang of fit guys to carry my coffin — no red-faced old fellas wilting under the strain with sweat rolling down their faces.

The offertory gifts will be things like vodka and cream cakes. Stuff I enjoyed. Maybe a deck of cards and a betting slip. A packet of fags for all the years of smoking. (Three months on and still no smoking and I can’t quite believe it. But the fags should be offered up anyway.) There’ll be a party afterwards with a bouncy castle and karaoke for all my ageing friends

Now there are some people who I don’t want near the place, and I may have to have a list hanging up with their names on it and a clear message to get off the premises. I just wonder will I be on the stairway to heaven or the highway to hell.