God knows what has made me think of graveyards and resurrecting dead bodies today, I should be painting my toenails whilst I am still agile enough to reach them…anyway, here goes.
60 million people crammed onto a small island. We are in danger of tipping over. We build ever upwards – at times, we excavate downwards, multi-storey below ground car parks to accommodate the transport for all these people.
What we never, ever do, is worry about what we do with all these people when it is not just their cars that need to go underground, but their bodies.
We have steeled our self to ask the nice Doctor to starve our loved ones to death when we get fed up waiting for them to peg it; we have all the laws nicely in place.
We accept that some of the younger versions of ourselves will get sluiced down the hospital drain system.
We have a multitude of euphemisms to cover every eventuality – except when it comes to upsetting our final desire – to see 6’x 2’ of God’s Little Acre reserved exclusively for us, and a nice stone plaque on top please.
God’s Little Acre has run out of space, some of us are going to have to hot-bunk.
Four years ago, the Labour government brought in measures under the ‘Deregulation and Contracting Out Act’ of 1994 that allowed them to quietly dig up those who had had sole use of their little plot for 100 years, in a technique euphemistically called ‘lift and deepen’ and bung six more of us in with the reluctant sitting tenant.
By selecting those who had been in place for 100 years, they minimised the howls of outrage. Actually they left it to the Local Authorities to contact – if they could – the grieving relatives and tell them that Old Great Grandpa Morgan may well have fought for his country, ‘yes, yes, yes, we feel your pain’ but immigration has reached such a peak in this country, and what with the birth rate and everything, in future it was going to be Old Great Grandpa Morgan and another five people he had never met, or if he did, may have heartily disliked, that would be resting in peace under the imitation marble statue of Madonna and child.
There were, at the time, around 150,000 of us claiming exclusive rights to a patch of soil six foot down. An interesting phenomena, given that very, very few of us hold any rights to whatever is under our feet, even when we proudly wave our ‘freehold’ certificates around.
Naturally the Labour government saw this in terms of their favourite buzzwords – ‘sustainability’ and ‘community facilities’. ‘Recycling’ didn’t get a look in.
A mere four years later, and the period of ‘rest in peace’ has been reduced to 75 years.
The 200 acre City of London Cemetery in Epping Forest has already dug up over 1,000 graves belonging to those who haven’t uttered a squeak of protest in 75 years, and handed them over to 360 homeless corpses.
The Labour government estimated that cemeteries would run out of space in 30 years, which has now been revised down to 10 years.
Sooner, rather than later, a government will have to revise the 1850s Burial Acts – if it is the coalition government you can expect riots in the streets campaigning against heartless Tories digging up dear old Doris after a mere 10 years.
When it dawns on dear old Doris’s relatives that it was partly uncontrolled immigration that led us to such a housing shortage, above and below ground, the EU will inevitably get the blame.
At the present rate of growth, Doris will be lucky to get a year in peace……
Rest in Peace – tenants are advised they must vacate these premises in an orderly fashion after 28 days. No ball games. By order of the local authority.