Here I am, an older man, still full of enthusiasm for the bright lights and the places where celebrities gather. But celebrities don’t recognize me anymore and I don’t get invited to as many openings of envelopes, movie premiers, fashion shows or charity balls.
So how could I make one final splash and regain my status as a genuine celebrity?
And then it came in a flash. Taking my lead from someone, who knows how to play the media, I hit on a novel idea, which will appeal to a lot of people, who would normally find me annoying.
I’m going to have THREE funerals.!
Not that I’m dying or anything, but when the time comes the first funeral will be a humanist or civil ceremony for close family exclusively. I agonized on this for a good while and I had to make a lot of enquiries before I found a plush 3 Star Hotel on Gardiner Street, that will be prepared to accommodate the event.
Of course, I couldn’t use my real name, because I’m the one who is going to be the corpus delecti. So, using the name Shaky Lee (very appropriate for a man with Parky), I booked the hotel over the phone.
I have planned my second funeral to take place in exotic Playa Del Ingles, on Gran Canaria. I’ll invite about a hundred friends and nearer the day, me or a friend will book a week’s package holiday, with half-board, for all the invited guests and to make it fair, everyone can pay for themselves. My corpse will be transported to the Canaries in a coffin in the cargo hold and my best man will ensure that the doesn’t go missing in transit. The coffin will be placed in a hearse and because I know some people on the island, I can get a few lads to sing a few sad songs as the cortege trundles by, on its way to the 3 * de luxe Miramar Hotel, where friends will walk the black carpet to a reception that will be held in the lobby.
I know you’re thinking, how could I pull it off logistically and financially ifalready brown. It took a stroke of luck, because it was in my head to try and sell the exclusive photo rights to Ireland’s Own, when a gambler friend of mine suggested that I talk to a bookie.
It was a stroke of genius more than luck, because I am still alive and there are so many variables, it would need someone who is good at calculating odds.
Everything I have organized is predicated on me being brown bread, so the bookie will ensure that
all arrangements will stay in place for five years. The bookie will probably be able to offer a string of bets, on how I might die, when I might die and so forth.
The bookie is a lifesaver, if that doesn’t sound too paradoxical. He plans to put the photos in the window of their chain of shops, plus he’ll also give a free E10 First Time Bet to every mourner at the ceremony.
“When it comes to the photographic rights, it means we will have to ask everyone at the funeral to hand in their phones to security” a spokesperson for me, will tell them on the day. I have trouble mustering up the audacity to tell them myself. Then I thought, f..k them, if they can’t do without their iPhones for an hour.
I will also have someone I trust to express my desire that my close friends, the lads, that they should pay attention to what Rosanna Davison said to her bridesmaids at her second wedding on Ibiza, last Sunday.
”You want to remember it all” she said, “so I’ll make sure my bridesmaids are there with glasses of water.”
Swap bridesmaid for mourners and you are getting the best advice ever. Sadly, it was directed at girls. Men, as you know, are impervious to logic when it comes to drink, both the imbibing and the spilling of it. The second funeral may be a little louder than anticipated, with the sound of Tequila Slammers echoing round the chintzy bar.
My third and final funeral will hopefully be a night of gaiety for everybody, in Coppers If my coffin is put standing upright, it won’t be too conspicuous at the bar. I will leave instructions on who the most important musicians are likely to be and it will feel like a gig rather than a funeral. So no weeping and moaning, unless it is of a sexual nature.
I don’t want to build up too much hope in my dying inside the five year parameter I settled on with the bookmaker, but t he good news is that I’m feeling terrible and that pain in my lower back, could be the beginning of the end.
Dress code for Funeral 3 will be “musician chic” and I intend to instruct my best man and groomsman not to be caught without a drink in their hands. And if anybody tells you they want to remember., tell them the video director will have been instructed by me, to make everyone look drunk, whether they are or not.