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Dealing with death and returning profits.


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Julie, I'm looking to rent a hearse as I have a mattress, a 32 inch Phillips TV and parts of an old book shelf to take to the tip. Doubt it'll fit in my hatchback and I think renting a hearse will be cheaper than renting a van.

Please be in touch,

Darren

xx

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Julie, I'm looking to rent a hearse as I have a mattress, a 32 inch Phillips TV and parts of an old book shelf to take to the tip. Doubt it'll fit in my hatchback and I think renting a hearse will be cheaper than renting a van.

Please be in touch,

Darren

xx

I don't own a hearse you daftie. I own a Kia Ceed.

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I drove a hearse for a few years. I would tend to go at just under 25, but then bring it down to a steady 10 or 12 when we got close to the crem/cemetery. You'd get the odd w*nkstain driving past, hooting the horn: usually Celtic-shirted Gracemount drivers overtaking at Mortonhall.

To be honest, the slow driving thing is a load of sh*te, and most families I think would prefer just to get into the crem and then slow down a bit. But tradition, eh?

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My uncle once drove a hearse to help out a friend. The tradition in the small fishing villages on the Moray coast is after the church service the whole funeral party walks slowly behind the hearse for a few minutes, before proceeding to the cemetery/ oven.

The undertaker ( not the wrestler) walks solemnly infront of the car, on this occasion, my uncle, wary of the appointment time at the crematorium started off at around 12 miles per hour, only for the undertaker to knock furiously on the hearse to tell him to slow down- oh how we laughed! And subsequently continue to laugh as this sad tale is rolled out as an amusing anecdote at every family gathering.

It's a shame we missed the crematorium time and the unfortunate had to be stored in a cupboard over the weekend.

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My uncle once drove a hearse to help out a friend. The tradition in the small fishing villages on the Moray coast is after the church service the whole funeral party walks slowly behind the hearse for a few minutes, before proceeding to the cemetery/ oven.

The undertaker ( not the wrestler) walks solemnly infront of the car, on this occasion, my uncle, wary of the appointment time at the crematorium started off at around 12 miles per hour, only for the undertaker to knock furiously on the hearse to tell him to slow down- oh how we laughed! And subsequently continue to laugh as this sad tale is rolled out as an amusing anecdote at every family gathering.

It's a shame we missed the crematorium time and the unfortunate had to be stored in a cupboard over the weekend.

Pish.

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