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Old git
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West Deeping Lincs
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09-12-2011, 11:18 PM
1

Gallows humour

I was chatting to my neighbour Dick this morning and he told me Sue,his wife, reckons they should move.

Why?

Because Jenny died last October,Frank their other neighbour died two weeks ago and now the lady directly across the road has only days left.

You have to smile because it prevents the tears.

At least Frank died `well` 84 and out with his second love-his sheep,out in the field and suddenly with his boots on
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09-12-2011, 11:51 PM
2

Re: Gallows humour

Gallows humor is sort of like whistling past the graveyard .... we're all going there ultimately, ready or not. It could have been worse for Frank .... in a hospital with tubes and medicated into a stupor. His wasn't a bad way to go.
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09-12-2011, 11:57 PM
3

Re: Gallows humour

Good way to go OG, but a big shock for family and friends. My Dad always use to say he wanted to die with his boots on, and he got his wish-shock to us, but quick and painless for my Dad.
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10-12-2011, 10:22 AM
4

Re: Gallows humour

I'm NOT going - unless I'm 'pickled' in Brandy - but that means being 'pickled' BEFORE I die not after, as I like the taste!!!
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10-12-2011, 12:27 PM
5

Re: Gallows humour

On the street I lived before I married, six people, all under 30, died in the space of two years, there were about 20 houses on each side of the street and all the deaths were on the opposite side of our house. I won't go into the details just to say, as far as I can remember, one drowned, two had leukemia, two in a car smash, and one brain hemorrhage. Seven family's moved away from 'Death Row' as it became known locally.
Some of the older members of the community used to say that an ancient graveyard was there before the houses were built, but I never found out if that was true or just made up, a lot of old documents were housed in the Four Courts Building in Dublin and were destroyed by fire after the shelling in the civil war here in 1921, so a lot of old stuff can't be traced back. Still it was a bit strange.
Hammer
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10-12-2011, 12:39 PM
6

Re: Gallows humour

A couple of my mates were out beating for a shooting party recently. They were flushing out some woods when one of them falls to the ground. He doesn't seem to be breathing, his eyes are rolled back in his head. My other mate whips out his mobile phone and calls the emergency services.

He gasps to the operator: “My friend is dead! What can I do?” The operator, in a calm soothing voice says: “Just chill out and take it easy. I can help. First of all, let's make sure he's dead.” There is a silence, then a shot is heard. My mate comes back on the line. He says: “OK, now what?"
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10-12-2011, 12:51 PM
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Re: Gallows humour

, brilliant Hammer!.
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10-12-2011, 01:28 PM
8

Re: Gallows humour

Jem and Hammer, I never know when to believe you two or not!

Jem, yours is the one I am puzzling over at the moment ....... it could be true and yet, it could be false!
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10-12-2011, 04:59 PM
9

Re: Gallows humour

My story is true Mags, on my honour, sure I knew all the dead people personally, I know it's a bit like the boy who called wolf, but there it is.
Hammer
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10-12-2011, 06:07 PM
10

Re: Gallows humour

Not sure if this is gallows humour, I laughed at the time as I always found there were lighter moments even in the most sombre or frankly sometimes, absurd situations.

It is a true story but out of neccessity a bit long although some parts have been missed out. If anyone finds funerial matters upsetting please don't read further.

I would also think some of the people involved are still alive, or as conscious as they were when this took place, so I have changed their names.

More years ago than I really want to think of I was getting a bit serious with this girl I met at a match over Ipswich way. She came from a small village backwater way out in the sticks, A very strange place with even stranger inhabitants, it was not exactly Deliverance country but not too far removed.

The girl and her family were of course the exception apart from her allegiance to the Tractor Boys football club (Ipswich Town), her old chap was a very decent and well respected bloke who was the local joiner and mainstay of the village.
In those days it was the custom - in that place at any rate - for the village carpenter to double up as a funeral director, hence my involvement as I used to help out at weekends and sometimes on the actual disposals and stuff.

The job was simple enough, an old chap had as expected expired naturally and the local ladies had been round to the house and done what they did best, prettied and laid him out ready for us to collect.

The trouble was, the old geezer was inconsiderate enough to peg out on a friday evening and we could not collect him until Saturday morning which made us a bit short handed. In desperation Mr Chips the carpenter enlisted the help albeit very reluctant, of Dave one of his staff joiners and he and us three regulars all assembled at the cottage.

The only vehicle available to us that morning was a sombre grey mini-van in which we had placed the collection box. You have to remember that this was way before even the fibreglass 'handy' coffins let alone the plastic ones of today.
This essential piece of equipment was a large solid oak casket and usually this one size fits all version sufficed.

The cottage itself was a small farmworkers abode with a nightmare of a stairway with a landing halfway down. A couple of us set about installing the deceased whilst Dave and our regular helper waited below talking to the son and whilst the widow made a cuppa for us.

This guy was huge, I mean big, not just tall but big all round and we had a real struggle to get him in. The only way was to bend his legs up a little with his head flat. Finally with the lid screwed down we maneuvered him to the top of the stairs. The plan was to slide him gently down the first flight
with a couple of blokes at the front guiding it down.

I can see you have got there before me but yes, the new guy started to have kittens over what he was doing and let go. It glided serenely down and came to rest with a thump against the wall. The ensuing appropriately deathly silence was only broken by the recently bereaved lady shouting "if that don't wake the ba**a*d up,nothing will".

We finally got the lad into the van and off we went with the back doors open and I sat on the box to keep it from falling out which was a tale in itself.

We arrived at the chapel of rest which in reality was nothing more than the chippies store room with a couple of trestles in the middle. The four of us got the casket out and carried it in, the saying of 'dead weight' was never more apt. Our new assistant had by this time calmed down as he seemed to be relaxed in his place of work.

Mr Chips started unscrewing the lid saying something about "giving him some air for the weekend", as clear as day I remember him taking off the lid with a theatrical flourish, the old chap must have had a bit of gas as his head rose up out of the box and he gave out a mighty belch.

I guess we have all seen those cartoons where a creatures eyes come out on stalks at something awful before them , I kid you not dear reader, Dave's face was a picture of terror.
He about turned and ran out and was last seen running down the lane trying to mount his bicycle with no success.

He never did help again but I will say he made a beautiful coffin for the lad to be finally laid to rest in.
 
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