I nearly ended up in "The Great Newspaper in the Sky" recently when a thundering truck ignored the red lights at a Klong Toey junction and missed our taxi by a whisker. The taxi driver seemed to think the incident was amusing, while all I managed was to blurt out "bloody hell!"
If the worst had happened, I can imagine the judge at the inquiry asking the cabbie what were the final words from the newshound in the backseat and being told "bloody hell!" Not exactly inspiring.
Fortunately, there are people who are a lot more eloquent at their moment of truth. When Wing Commander Paddy Finucane (related to former Bangkok Post night editor, Peter Finucane) was shot down in the Battle of Britain in 1940, his final message was "This is it chaps!" Now, that's signing off in real style.
Another hero who came up with arguably the most famous last words ever was Captain Lawrence Oates. Before leaving his tent in a raging blizzard on the 1912 Antarctic expedition and knowing he was not coming back, he famously said: "I am going outside and may be some time."
But on a more mundane level, there was the ailing George V, who upon being told he would soon be fit enough to visit the seaside town of Bognor, responded with a splendid "Bugger Bognor".
The end is nigh
Politicians can always be relied upon for some pearls of wisdom on their deathbed. When told by the doctor in 1863 that he was dying, British Prime Minister Viscount Palmerston replied: "Die? My dear doctor, that's the last thing I should do."
It will come as no surprise that Sir Winston Churchill had a few words lined up for his departure: "I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the ordeal of meeting me is another matter."
When the American-born British politician Viscountess Nancy Astor was on her deathbed there was a touching scene when she asked her son "Jakie, is it my birthday, or am I dying?" to which he diplomatically replied "A bit of both, Mum".
What, me worry?
Some simply won't accept their time has come. As he lay on his deathbed in 1946, author HG Wells snapped at his nurse: "Go away. I'm all right."
He wasn't.
Then there was actor Douglas Fairbanks Sr who said breezily: "I've never felt better"… and promptly expired. We must not forget Oscar Wilde who lay dying in a shabby Paris bedroom and demanded: "Either that wallpaper goes, or I do." The wallpaper won.
Gallows humour
Strange though it may seem, some of the wittiest comments have come from those awaiting execution. When British murderer Neville Heath was about to be hanged in 1946 he was asked if he had any last requests. He asked for a whisky, paused and then corrected himself by saying: "Ah… you might make that a double."
Another gentleman who showed a touch of class at his execution was Duc de Lauzon de Biron, who was guillotined in 1793. Telling the executioner to wait, he said with commendable panache: "I beg a thousand pardons my friend, but permit me to finish this last dozen oysters."
American mass murderer Carl Panzram was very proud of the speed and efficiency with which he carried out his crimes. There was some delay as he awaited his execution in 1930, and when asked if he had any final words, he barked irritably at the hangman: "Yes, hurry up you bastard, I could hang a dozen men while you're fooling around."
In what must surely be the most pragmatic parting utterance, James Rodgers, an American criminal executed by firing squad in 1960, when asked if he had a special request, replied: "Why yes, a bullet-proof vest."
Those weren't the days
Humble apologies for getting the name of the Leonard Sachs programme wrong last week. It was, of course, The Good Old Days and not Those Were The Days as I called it. As a certified wrinkly, I ought to have got that right.
Somehow I got it confused with the song, Those Were The Days, which was a big hit for Mary Hopkin back in 1968. Remember that? Produced by Paul McCartney, it has a haunting melody and has lasted the pace well. They still sing it on English football terraces, which is admittedly a bit of a back-handed compliment. Only last year Hopkin, now aged 68, recorded an acoustic version to mark the song's 50th anniversary.
It was originally a Russian song written by a man called Boris, hence the balalaikas. Unusually for a pop song it also includes the banjo and clarinet, which is rather odd.
Voice from the valleys
Hopkin hails from a Welsh-speaking family in the valleys so it is not surprising she had such a natural singing voice. She was just 18 at the recording and admits to being very nervous when she went into the Abbey Road studios with a full orchestra, and struggled with the early takes It was only after a phone call of encouragement from John Lennon that she eventually nailed it, "I felt privileged to have been given that song by Paul", she commented recently.
Have a listen to her on YouTube. What a beautiful voice. Altogether now…
"Those were the days my friend, We thought they'd never end… La la la la la la…."
Contact Postscript via email at oldcrutch@gmail.com
