How To Be Annoyingly Wacky, Even After Death

This is an old feature I wrote about weird burial procedures across the world. Not exactly groundbreaking but if you give me an excuse to combine morbid subject matter with insensitive corpse jokes, I'll pounce on it like a hungry pigeon on tepid vomit.

Actually, looking back on it, some of it's pish. Read it anyway.

Published in Student, 4th November 2008 (I think):

It’s late August 2005 and 153ft above Aspen, Colorado, there’s a giant two-thumbed fist perched atop an enormous chrome cannon. Dylan’s ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’ plays as, chased by a flourish of multicoloured fireworks, a small canister is launched skywards from the fist before exploding above the heads of Hollywood’s finest. Inside that canister are the earthly remains of Hunter S. Thompson, pioneer of gonzo journalism and mastermind of ‘the grandest celebration on the planet’.

Really puts the old church hall and ‘Candle in the Wind’ approach to shame, doesn’t it? A reluctance to break from tradition and a common ‘just in case’ perspective on the afterlife have meant that burial ceremonies are for the most part still steeped in superstition, ceremony and – let’s face it – banality. But with religion gradually losing its monopoly on death and opportunistic businesses cashing in on bereavement, things are becoming a little more interesting.

It’s easy to see how this came about. You spend your life establishing and developing something resembling an identity, a personality, and then it’s all snuffed out in an instant. All that’s left is one opportunity to sum it all up and for many, black ties, dour ministers and oak coffins just won’t cut it. A fitting farewell requires a little more imagination and fortunately there’s plenty in the way of inspiration out there.

Thompson may have had nearly thirty years of planning and Johnny Depp’s millions at his disposal but even those of us burying on a budget can afford a little explosive grandeur. For around £250, Heavenly Stars Fireworks in Essex will pack a sample of the departed’s ashes into a small arsenal of rockets and Roman candles, leaving you to launch them from the comfort of your back garden. Perhaps not the most sensitive send-off for a ham-fisted bomb disposal technician, but nonetheless a strangely poetic alternative to dumping your loved ones in a muddy hole.

Providing there’s enough ash and money left over, you can then have what remains of your nearest and dearest turned into a fashion accessory. Sussex-based company LifeGem offers to convert the carbon found in human ashes into a synthetic diamond, allowing you to transform your granny into bling for a little over two grand. Through a complex process of compressing and heating the ash, LifeGem forms a stone of your chosen size and colour, giving you the option to have it mounted onto jewellery. Rumours started in this article state that 50 Cent once had a rival gang incinerated and turned into a diamond-studded ‘pimp goblet’.

Stretch the budget further and you don’t even have to be buried on this planet. Such was the destiny of Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry and acid-guzzling space cadet Timothy Leary, both of whom had a sample of their ashes released into orbit in 1997. The ingenious designs of Space Services Inc. allow for a tiny capsule of ashes to float in the earth’s gravitational field, potentially for hundreds of years, before eventually burning up in the atmosphere like a shooting star. Except of course when they don’t make it that far, as was the case this August, when the failure of a Falcon 1 rocket led to the remains of 208 people (including Star Trek’s James ‘Scotty’ Doohan) dropping off the radar.

If all this talk of smoky explosives, pollutant incineration and inefficient space travel has left the more ecologically preoccupied among you gnashing your teeth, there’s hope yet. In Sweden, Promessa Organic has found a novel alternative to carbon-emitting cremations and environmentally harmful embalming fluids – freeze-dry the corpse like the raspberries in your cereal and then shatter it into an eco-friendly fine powder. After being dunked in liquid nitrogen, the brittle body is broken down by sound waves, conveniently becoming an effective fertiliser along the way. Mourners are then able to grow a tree from the remains, providing a nice neat metaphor for the cycle of death and rebirth. It’s not known whether anyone has opted for a vegetable patch instead, although the idea of a cycle of death, rebirth and organic cabbages holds a certain pseudo-cannibalistic appeal.

Of course, that’s not the only Scandinavian innovation when it comes to burials. Endel Opik, brother of misfit Liberal Democrat MP Lembit, was a 6ft 8in blonde goth known to his friends as Tal Stoneheart. After succumbing to pneumonia aged 37, his wish for a traditional Viking funeral was granted… in Whitby, North Yorkshire. Hundreds looked on as a replica longboat, soaked in accelerant and holding Opik’s ashes, artwork and synthesizer, was cast seaward and set ablaze by flaming arrows.

If the Viking connotations of rape, pillage and bearskin are bit much, there are plenty of other foreign cultures whose influence could help to give your send-off a unique flavour. Take the jazz band processions of New Orleans or the Ghanaian tradition of themed coffins that could see you buried in a giant pineapple or beer bottle; for the truly unconventional, you could always try the Zoroastrian approach found in some parts of India, in which the body is left as carrion for scavenging birds. Whether or not the City of Edinburgh Council or the local pigeons will go for it is another matter.

But what of the consequences of such overblown, exotic gestures of remembrance? Speak to some of your more ‘eccentric’ friends, those who live life with tongue in cheek and/or head up arse – you’re bound to find at least one who, when speculating about their own funeral, will say something along the lines of, “I just want it to be a big party, with everyone dressed in crazy costumes. Celebrating life, not mourning death, y’know?”

False shows of flippancy in the face of death aside, there’s a definite selfishness there. It’s all very well that you want a Star Wars themed funeral but spare a thought for that unfortunate bereaved relative, too loyal not to play along but all the while sobbing uncontrollably into his Chewbacca mask. After all, who benefits more from a funeral - the friends and family seeking comfort and closure or the 170-odd pounds of dead meat in the wooden box?

That said, delegating all control to relatives can be a risky business. Yes, you may be young and carefree but there’s no harm in dropping a few hints so that, if that bacon roll does go down the wrong way, there’s no chance of yours being just another nondescript service.

Some of us, sadly, just don’t get a say in the matter. One of this summer’s most depressing Internet findings was the funeral of Annabelle Lotus Krawczyk, who died just minutes after birth. A tragedy in itself but when you consider that both of her parents were ‘juggalos’ (die-hard fans of Detroit ‘horrorcore’ duo, Insane Clown Posse), things go from bad to truly repugnant. Cue photos of mother, ‘Juggalo Julz’ and father, ‘Druggalo JK47’ standing over a tiny casket emblazoned with garish band logos. Then there are the numerous MySpace tributes, such as the bewildering ‘Death dont want no Juggalo Evil orbs and spirits leave my daughter alone’. Google if you dare.

So let that be a warning to you. Make it personal, have some input and be adventurous -but do try to keep it vaguely tasteful. At the end of the day, it’s your funeral.

Photo credit Walt Jabsco