My fantasy funeral would be a celebration with 80s party food

Nicholas from our Communications team shares his fantasy funeral

As I envision the grand finale of my mortal existence, the word ‘traditional’ is nowhere
in sight.

No coffins, no sombre gatherings, and certainly no hushed remembrances wearing black. I’m opting for a celebration that mirrors the quirky essence of my existence. A nod to my peculiar life that’s sure to leave everyone scratching their heads.

Let’s kick off the festivities with a grand entrance – or should I say, roll? Forget the fancy coffins or even a cardboard box; toss me straight into a wheelbarrow. Let’s keep it simple, and more importantly, get me cremated ASAP. There’s no need for my physical form to linger any longer than necessary. Efficiency is key to me, even in the afterlife.

Now, about that funeral service everyone dreads – not on my watch! The idea of a traditional funeral service makes me cringe. A group of people gathered around, speaking in hushed tones about what a nice guy I was? No, thank you. No whispers and black-clad mourners here. Instead, let’s throw a party – a bash that I’ve curated from beyond the grave.

Picture it: upbeat tunes I love, sprinkled with just enough morbidity to keep the mood appropriately eerie. A Joy Division track, perhaps? Nothing like a bit of post-punk to get the party started.

And speaking of parties, I’d love a shrine dedicated to the many (un)glorious faces that I’ve managed to ruin perfectly pleasant photos with over the years (sorry mum). The more absurd, the better – because why take life too seriously, even in death? It’s a celebration, after all, and laughter should be the centrepiece.

Now, onto the sustenance – the food. No fancy caterers or gourmet delicacies; I’m talking about the nostalgia-inducing delights of 80s party fare. Cheese and pineapple on sticks, party rings, and pork pies cut into quarters to make them go further. Cap it off with jelly and ice cream, a culinary throwback
to the simpler times when life was just as sweet.

They say you should never speak ill of the dead, but let’s not sugar-coat things. In the spirit of honesty, let the guests share all the things they thought about me – the cheapness, the grumpiness, the infuriating neck cracking when stressed. It’s a roast I won’t be around to hear, but I’ll be smiling from the great beyond, neck-cracking and all.

So, as I bid adieu to this mortal coil, remember me not with tears, but with laughter, music, and a questionable spread of 80s delights. After all, if death is inevitable, why not make the exit memorable?

In the end, let my send-off be a testament to the joy of imperfection, the beauty of laughter, and a celebration of a life lived authentically – warts, quirks, and all.

:: This story was from our Spring/Summer issue of Connect magazine. To read the full magazine, or to sign up to receive future editions, please click here.