Roddy Doyle's Charlie Savage: Vincent Price and a very modern horror
I was at a funeral there, yesterday. A cousin I hardly knew. But I'm running out of cousins, so I went along to see him off. There's so many people I know dying these days, I have a special jumper and trousers that I only wear to funerals.
The wife says my face takes on a particularly sombre look when it pops out of the neck of the jumper. But I think she's just jealous because most of her cousins are still alive, so she doesn't get out as much as I do.
Anyway, I'm at the funeral - and the wife is with me because her hairdressing appointment was cancelled. We're outside the church, after the mass, in the queue to hug the widow and the grown-up kids - when, suddenly, there's a big face right in front of mine.