I'm sure most of us have indulged in a brief fantasy about our own funeral. It'd be nice to know how it went down. Would there be scenes at the church reminiscent of the first day of the January sales, as devastated masses flocked to say their farewells? Or would the vicar have the whole thing wrapped up in ten minutes? Would you warrant a eulogy, or just a brief amen? Might there be fireworks? Or sausage rolls?

Well, there is one sure-fire way to find out, for anybody who really, really needs to know, and isn't all that bothered about putting their nearest and dearest through the wringer. Have yourself presumed dead, allow your next of kin to wrongly identify your body, watch them snap into action and organise the ceremony, then simply show up and do a quick head count. Like this guy.

Which to be fair, isn't exactly what happened. But I suspect that the temptation to rock up and see how his family had chosen to mark his passing was just to great an opportunity to ruin with a phone call - 'Hi, I'm not dead, let's call the whole thing off.' I know I'd have to go and have a look. And if it did turn out to be a ten minute, ashes in a jam jar affair, well, start a new life, make some new friends and hope that they will care enough to turn up for your next funeral.