I read a story the other day that caught my attention. It seems the cellist of the former musical group known as the Electric Light Orchestra (ELO) died in a freak single vehicle accident. A circular hay bale that had been resting peacefully in an English field, suddenly and without warning, rolled down the hillside that it was sitting on and ran over the poor, unsuspecting man. What a way to go, done in by a rogue bale of hay. Certainly not what I would want on my tombstone. I should think I would prefer something more John Wayne-ian or Bruce Lee-ish. After having kicked the tails of countless bad guys, to fade off with my best girl weeping over my body. That would seem better.
But if a wayward clump of grass sounds undignified, how about the man in Bucktoothshire, England who died when the frozen poo ejectile from a passing jet airliner crashed through the roof of his shanty and smote him as he was sitting down to a steaming pile of bangers and mash. What about the bloke in Upper Uncton, Ireland who was snuffed out when his old lady's frou frou shelf of scented lavender and pewter knick-knacks broke loose and conked him on the noggin as he was sitting on the loo. He was no more.
Looking over this list, I really can't explain why all of these comical ... err ... freakish and unfortunate deaths occurred to citizens of the good ole UK. Must be something in the water.