I had to go to a funeral the other day, well didn't have to go, the only one I have to attend is my own. So I'll restart - a workmate died and the burial was last Friday. He was 46. I stood in the crowd of people desperately looking for a face or two which I recognised, I didn't know a fooking sole - which isn't surprising considering I only knew him from work. We were ushered in. Sitting on the back pew I had another quick look around trying not to catch anyones gaze, failing miserably I might add. I done the half smile cocking the head gesture at some moustached Doris in a floral smock type thing who was looking straight at me. The vicar stood at the alter - another quick scan around - Doris had finished scrutinising me, her glare now upon the vicar.

"We are here to pay tribute to Vera blah bla.........." as his words spewed from his mouth it became very apparent that the reason I didn't recognise anyone - I was at the wrong fooooking funeral !!!! By god what if upon leaving Doris asks me where I know the deceased... As I sat there I started to panic what if they think I'm some sort of pervert who gets off at funerals, how am I going to explain it was a mistake - do I just get up and leave??? They'll all be stood in Doris' front room asking who was the strange fat lad who foooked off half way through our Veras funeral and no one would say oh it was probably a mistake he might have joined ours by accident and they'll have a good ol' laugh about it. Oh no there would be anger and crazy talk, pervert would be said and - I dunno perhaps masturbation would be yelled no doubt from Doris.

Foooking hell I'm stood in a place of worship (?), well a place of death surrounded by complete strangers singing songs to a dead bird I don't know, does it get any worst - apparently yes - yes it does. Doris stood in the front looking around acknowledging people who have travelled a far to be here today amongst the list was uncle Mike who flew in from America, Robert and Julia had drove from Scotland her cousin who lived in Bath - and then her beady eyes looked at me - I started to slouch - she opened her mouth - here it comes. It's so nice to see so many faces some of which I don't know here today...... I nearly leaped from my pew pointing at Doris and shouting in your face you foooking old witch I didn't even know her ha who's feels stupid now..... But I composed myself - nodded my appreciation of her lovely words.

The proceeding carried on for a little longer. Then the casket descended. The family rose and left then we, the mourners left. I shook the vicars hand. A brief look around trying to plan my exit I spotted Alex an employee at the building I work - shite now what. If he sees me he'll think that's odd - he may even blow my cover - cover I'm not foooking James Bond... panic starts to shroud me - again. I look to my right, Doris is bent over - her flowery smoky dress type thing is billowing in the wind. Her arse is stuck in the air and her knee length stockings are seeing the sun for the first time. It's like a train wreck - can't take my eyes off it - it repulses me but at the same time it's captivating. My eyes will not move. Lord have mercy on my soul. I'm praying the wind doesn't blow any harder. Still I'm staring - there will be shouts of pervert and masturbation soon. I must break the spell - I blink.

In front of me the opening which I needed called. And thank god it wasn't Doris' opening.... Almost running I made a bee line. Out in the open, I took a deep breath. The queue for "my" funeral was massive. I stood in line trying to blend in, how difficult is it to blend - we're all wearing the same colours, the same dopey look on our faces.

Doris spotted me straight away. Our eyes met. Only for a short while - but it felt like an hour. She frowned. I nodded my best - "I'm so very sorry for your loss - please don't shout perv and point at me - it was a mistake" nod and I think it worked. She turned and chatted to some old fart who would probably be the next visitor to the crematorium - who knows I may go to it!!!