There’s more than one way to skin a donkey.

Well, possibly, but if there is I don’t know it. To be honest I don’t know the first way. All I know is there’s always more than one solution to any problem.
I’ve decided that I need a new wide-angle lens for this season. Faster than f4. f2.8 would be good, f2 would be better. The only problem being cash. Current projects in the pipeline have meant that cash flow is tight and there’s very little left over for new toys.
Banking the future seems like a good idea. An advertisement on the telebox has given me an idea. An idea that I have already put in motion. But the idea of banking the cash now is a new twist. Unlocking the equity stored in my meagre physical frame.
Not to be morbid, but I have decided to cheat the undertaker, or hangman, whoever gets me first. I’m assuming we still hang people in the United Kingdom for minor crimes, such as dropping litter. I’m a bit out of touch with things.
Funerals seem to be an unnecessary expense. Where’s the fun? It’s a party and you’re the guest of honour, but what do you get out of it? Not a lot. By spreading body parts about the country I plan not to have enough left to warrant a funeral. No expense and very green.
First up is organ donation. This is the most useful and easiest part. Someone might as well get some use of the parts I no longer need. I’m assuming that any poor sod that needs my corneas is totally blind and I pity them. So they will be going out with the rest of the trash.
My liver will probably go the same way. My love of fine alcohol will probably mean that will go unused as well. Kidneys and the other bits and bobs that still function will hopefully find a good home.
My brain is going to Alzheimer’s research. The pamphlet said that they can whip it out and nobody will notice. I’m not sure if they’ve been round already. My only fear is being conscious but inanimate on the gurney in the morgue. Out of my cold lifeless eyes I spy in the corner of the room a tray containing my brain. And my only thought being, wow that hurt.
I had been planning to get rid of the rest of the corpse by donating it as a crash test dummy. However the leotards they make you wear, with those stupid black and yellow dots, I don’t think would suit me.
The last time I went surfing, the wet suit was on the, well, baggy side. My frame wasn’t big enough to fill it out. Not a great look. A blue leotard would look even worse. A fashion statement I don’t want to make.
I was also useless at surfing.
The other option is medical science. This is my preferred option. Student parties were always fun and I’m betting medical students have a great time. Death is not the end. Just the beginning of a great party season. Well, until things start going rancid. By that time I’m hoping that there won’t be enough left of me to warrant a funeral. Just enough left to stick in a plastic bag and tossed in to a wheelie bin.
So I can afford that lens after all.


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