Man: (entering a shop) Um, excuse me, is this the
Undertaker: Yup, that's right, what can I do for you,
Man: Um, well, I wonder if you can help me. My mother has
just died and I'm not quite sure what I should do.
Undertaker: Ah, well, we can 'elp you. We deal with
Man: (aghast) Stiffs?
Undertaker: Yea. Now there's three things we can do with
your mum. We can bury her, burn her, or dump her.
Man: Dump her?
Undertaker: Dump her in the Thames.
Man: (still aghast) What?
Undertaker: Oh, did you like her?
Undertaker: Oh well, we won't dump her, then. Well, what
do you think: burn her, or bury her?
Man: Um, well, um, which would you recommend?
Undertaker: Well they're both nasty. If we burn her, she
gets stuffed in the flames, crackle, crackle, crackle, which is a
bit of a shock if she's not quite dead. But quick. And then you get
a box of ashes, which you can pretend are hers.
Man: (timidly) Oh.
Undertaker: Or, if you don't wanna fry her, you can bury
her. And then she'll get eaten up by maggots and weevils, nibble,
nibble, nibble, which isn't so hot if, as I said, she's not quite
Man: I see. Um. Well, I.. I.. I.. I'm not very sure. She's
Undertaker: Where is she?
Man: In the sack.
Undertaker: Let's 'ave a look.
(FX: rustle of bag opening)
Undertaker: Umm, she looks quite young.
Man: Yes, she was.
Undertaker: (over his shoulder) FRED!
Fred: (offstage) Yea!
Undertaker: I THINK WE'VE GOT AN EATER!
Fred: I'll get the oven on!
Man: Um, er...excuse me, um, are you... are you suggesting
we should eat my mother?
Undertaker: Yeah. Not raw, not raw. We cook her. She'd be
delicious with a few french fries, a bit of stuffing. Delicious!
(smacks his lips)
Man: What! (he stammers)
Man: Actually, I do feel a bit peckish - No! NO, I can't!
Undertaker: Look, we'll eat your mum. Then, if you feel a
bit guilty about it afterwards, we can dig a grave and you can throw
up into it.
Man: All right.