Day 55

Dear Diary,

Anyway, right here and now I’m gonna dispense with The Funeral of The Millennium and The Distinguished Herman Goring Da Minnie Mauser. I don’t wanna talk about it no more, on account of there are other, more important life-threatening conundra in my mind, such as how ‘Ol Missus Milly Da Fardle got round her so-called ‘conflict of interest’ I was telling you about a few days ago.

But first, as I was saying, let’s finish up with The Great and Good Mister Herman Goring Da Minnie-Mauser’s Big Bang Send-Off!

After everybody’d settled themselves in wot they calls the ‘Grand Mirrored Salon of Crystal and Gilt’ at Mister Doctor Bernie Da Gnu’s ‘Wash ‘n’ Wake Funeral Parlour for a Beautiful Goodbye’ and after champagne and winkles on rye bread had been served on the special colour-coordinated throw away paper plates Mister Doctor Bernie Da Gnu sets aside for his Deluxe Premium Extra Fancy Sending Away Package Deals (€3.59 per person including VAT), the first event on the program was The Prima Donna Absoluta Mrs. Dorabella Peaches O’Dey got up and tweedled out a coupl’a rousing songs. Normally with A Deluxe Premium Extra Fancy Sending Away Package Funeral, she’d warble only a single song, and it’d be one everyone could sing along with without having to look at the words on the flashing sign overhead. The reason for this is most folks can’t read words off of a sign and sing at the same time, especially not on this island, where people has trouble breathing, let alone breathing and squeezing out a fart in the same hour. Anyway, on this special occasion, being that it was The Funeral to End All Funerals and’d been paid for in advance in full by The Lovely Loretta Lookalika Da Minnie Mauser, widow of the recently ate-by-a-fish Mister Herman Goring Da Minne-Mauser, The Prima Donna Absoluta Mrs. Dorabella Peaches O’Dey’d added on a coupl’a extra songs to her repertoire of dirges wot are suitable for putting’ folks in the ground, or, as the case may be, into tins of cat food. And seeing as how The Lovely Loretta Lookalika Da Minne-Mauser’d misread the invoice and paid the singer ten times wot she’d asked for (for which you can’t blame the grieving widow, on account of she was upset at the way her husband had preferred living with a fish rather’n her), The Prima Donna Absoluta Mrs. Dorabella Peaches O’Dey brought in Gerald Da Britch’s Drink ‘Til You’re Blind Pub and Wedding Party Rooms’ Pack’em Up ‘n’ Send’em off Jubilation Hallelujah Chorus (whose members, if you recalls, perform wearin’ snoods over their noses so’s not to offend respectable folk they might’a hit on the night before). And all together, they helped make the grand finale wot they calls a ‘memorable occasion’ wot’ll be talked about until they all gets drunk and falls down. And so it was, especially at the end of the funeral when Father Brady O’ Flanaghan Murnaghan from The Church of The Immaculate Septum on the bottom side of the island, got all carried away and read a special benediction for the recently ate. Unfortunately, he’d dropped the prayer book a coupl’a minutes earlier when he’d sneezed on account of his allergy to the special funeral floral arrangements made up by Mr. Bizzy Twizzy of Mr. Bizzy Twizzy’s Fragrant Flowers and Gifts for a Better Tomorrow. And wot do you know, but when he picked it back up again he stuck his thumb in the wrong page, this one written special for people wot ain’t leaving nothing to their nearest and dearest and ain’t in for any special favours from The Lord, who hates cheap folks. So anyway, when the song had finished on a mighty crescendo and a clashing of cymbals, the voice of Father Brady O’ Flanaghan Murnaghan from The Church of The Immaculate Septum on the bottom side of the island, was raised to the rooftops and above, even all the way to Heavens to Betsy. And wot do you think was boomed out for all to hear but the sacred words, “And to ye, The High and Mighty Mister Herman Gorning Da Minnie-Mauser, I sayeth unto thee that thou shaltst be plunged into the fiery furnace for all time and even for all eternity, and that in the pit thou shalt roast as surely as one of Thelma O’Leary’s hamburgers upon her infernal barbeque. Thou shalt have brimstone to drink and the gnomes of Beelzebub shalt graze upon thy unholy borbles. And thou shalt have no respite from The Worm nor from the tortures of Satan and all the Saints in Heaven shalt laugh and dance and sing, for thy screams shalt be as musicality to their merriment.” Around about this time, The grieving widow, The Lovely Loretta Lookalika Da Minnie-Mauser, who’d stopped pretending to be lovely altogether and who looked like a shovel of shite (which was generally remarked on afterwords during the reception), started in screaming and swooning and fainting all at the same time, which caused the good reverend to look down at what he was reading so’s he could remember the place for later. ‘Course, he then saw what he’d did and, in spite of hisself, said “O! FUCK” in a very loud voice, which made everybody laugh and feel better about things in general. The funny thing was, of course, it was too late to take back the words wot he’d spaked (as they say), on account of them having been spaked more or less official, so it was just as well that Mister Herman Goring Da Minnie-Mauser wasn’t in the coffin to be on the receiving end, only a fish, but not, as someone joked, a sole.

Shortly afterwords. Everyone adjourned to Gerald Da Britch’s Drink ‘Til You’re Blind Pub and Wedding Party Rooms where they heard more of the song stylings of the ‘Pack’em Up ‘n’ Send’em off Jubilation Hallelujah Chorus’, but not of The Prima Donna Absoluta Mrs. Dorabella Peaches O’Dey, on account of she’d only booked a babysitter for half an hour and had to get home or else the social services’d be called and her kids’d be took away just like the last time when the funeral at which she was singing ran overtime on account of everyone’d demanded a coupl’a more encores of ‘Bringing In The Sleeveless’. Anyway, after she’d done singing and had run out the door, all the folks, except for The Grieving Widow The Lovely Loretta Lookalika Da Minnie-Mauser (who by this time’d given up all thought of ever looking lovely again), adjourned to the buffet, where they loaded down their plates with yesterday’s burnt experiments from Missus Arabella Dorothy Cabbage Dumpling’s Turnip and Potato Cookery School and ate for a solid three hours. The ‘coozeen’, as they called it, had been took from outtake recipes stole from Celebrity Master Chef, and everyone commented on how good it was, on account of it having been stole originally from somebody else’s Saturday morning television program by wot they calls celebrities. According to wot you hears, this only proves that the coozeen in question were really something to write home about and must be tasting better’n a possum’s behind. At least that’s wot they say, but being a bus, I personally prefer premium motor oil, at least when I can get it.

After they’d done eating all this coozeen, they all went over to The Fuzzy Panty Banquet Rooms, where they danced up a storm, even The Grieving Widow, who by this time had forgot all about why she’d come in the first place.

In case you were wondering, Dear Diary, I haven’t mentioned Dweezee Da Minnie Fardle on account of she never showed up. It seems she got mixed up and went into the wrong funeral my mistake, and she thought it was so nice and pretty it’d be a shame to leave early. Besides she was one of them polite folks who knows walking out would upset all these folks who were having such a good time crying and carrying on. Plus the fact, there weren’t no one even remotely related to Miss Milly Da Fardle in the room, which was a change for the better and a breath of fresh air and showed her she could have a better life if she only reached out and grabbed hold of it.

On that thought, I’m gonna put away my pencil for a while and take a snooze. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgot about wot I was gonna tell you, so I’ll be back. As I always say, so endeth our little chat, and I’ll see you again soon.