A family tree full of fungus

Recalling the deaths of my relatives in service yesterday has reminded me of some other curious stories from the Chesworth Family Death Scrolls. We seem to have a genetic predisposition towards untimely and unusual demises.
Take Gerald Forster for instance. He was my mums cousin. He died of a gangrenous infection in his hand, which he got trying to remove a tattoo with a chisel, which he had given himself with ink and a compass after seeing ‘On The Waterfront’ as a teenager.
A trawl in the archives reveals one Cuthbert Arthur Chesworth (1857 – 1893) who died on Christmas Day in a blizzard after passing out on a farm track. He froze to death before being found ‘semi-naked and buttocks exposed’ by traumatised walkers on Boxing Day.
My aunt Jessica passed on only last July. She overdosed on contraceptive pills after mistaking them for multivitamins. Then there was my Uncle Louis. If he was still alive he could make a fortune as a lookalike for Borat. He’s not alive though. After a lunchtime session on Cointreau he couldn’t decide whether to take a shower or make some toast. In the end chose to kill two birds with one stone. He killed both birds all right, along with himself and the electricity supply for one-fifth of Berkshire.
So don’t expect me to succumb to heart disease or gently pass away in my sleep. If family history is an indicator, I’ll get struck by lightning while shagging a princess or trampled to death by pygmies while operating a roadsweeper.

RC 30-10-08
2150 GMT