Jem Kennedy RIP

I was at a great funeral last week. It was the best day out I've had in ages. The dearly departed was Jem Kennedy, who will be sadly missed by the publicans of the Daymo. Possibly by his missus, Rose, too, who seemed oddly fond of him - probably because he didn't come home very often. I often think this is the key to a happy marriage, as absence makes the heart grow fonder, and familiarity breeds contempt. My own dear wife, Peggy, worships the ground that I walk on, but only on the strict condition that that ground is as far away from her as possible.

In his younger days, Jem's interests and pleasures were wide and varied. He was always fond of the drink, and would eat all around him. If he couldn't eat it, he would set fire to it and smoke it. He liked to play cards, and would back horses, dogs, cats ... in fact he would have a bet on anything. Most of all, Jem Kennedy was a renowned ladies' man, known as the Gary Cooper of the Coombe. They used to say that he'd get up on the crack of dawn, whatever that meant.

In his latter years, Jem became a pale shadow of the man he once was. He came to look more like Gary Glitter than Gary Cooper, but he still tried it on with any female who came within range.

He spent his last few weeks in hospital suffering from some form of galloping dysentery. I'm not sure if he died or dissolved.

Back in Magowan's pub, after his remains had been poured into the grave, we were lining up to offer our sympathies to Rose.

'Ah, God love ya, ya poor craytur,' said some old Crone, who had shoved in ahead of me.

'Thanks very much,' said Rose. 'I'll miss him. I will.'

'Ah ya will o' course,' said the Crone. 'Ah bu' isn't he at peace now, the poor man, after all his pain.'

'Tha's true, it is,' sniffed Rose. 'He suffered enough.'

The oul-wan drew herself closer to Rose, and asked in a lowered voice:

'Tell us this - is it true tha' he died o' the diarrhoea?'

Rose jumped up and at the top of her voice said:

'He did NOT die o' diarrhoea. He died o' GONORRHOEA. Jem was an OUL SPORT - not an OUL SHITE!'

You can buy the hilarious new comedy novel 'It's a Desperate Life' as a paperback or e-book from Amazon and all other good book sellers - especially the excellent Owl Bookshop in Kentish Town, London NW5, and through http://peterhammondauthor.com