Can you imagine what the funeral will be like? The world’s weirdest and worst-dressed family queuing up to see who’s the most upset. Sales of dark glasses will rocket in Beverly Hills. The pallbearers, jacket sleeves rolled-up, moonwalk backwards down the aisle, MJ’s silver glove (god alone knows where that’s been) atop of the casket. The vicar screeches woo-hoo at the top of his voice, spins, grabs his crotch and leads the congregation in a rousing chorus of We Are the World (Where Are Your Children?).
As the hearse drives slowly along Paedophile Boulevard, the weeping masses toss monkey nuts onto the bonnet, in respect to Bubbles, the one small mammal who didn’t have to be paid not to reveal what his mate had done to him during those long winter evenings by the fire. Liz Taylor, looking like an extra from Thriller says a few words of thanks, and Diana Ross collapses. No-one is sure if it’s the emotion that gets to her, or merely a sudden puff of wind that catches her off-balance. Liza Minnelli helps the 40 pound diva to her feet then announces a comeback tour and that she’s to stand-in for Michael at the O2. That’ll be a real treat for all concerned. Dame Reginald Dwight accompanies her on keyboard in a rather inappropriate rendition of Johnny Cash’s Jackson. Paul McCartney mutters a few words, something about a woman called Linda and and bloke called John, then flashes several Victory signs to the cameras. The service is concluded by Lisa Marie Presley’s un-plugged version of her dad’s Old Shep. Not a dry leg in the house.

President Obama, who thankfully is still the same colour as when he was born, announces a national day of yawning, three Jacko impersonators are arrested for trying to string up a series of Hollywood Doctors from lamposts by their goolies, Ben reaches No1 in every pop chart in the world, and schools cancel all exams to spare grief-sticken children the terrible ordeal of getting on with their lives. June 25th is named MJ Day, when masks will be worn and babies hung over balconies in celebration of the great man’s life. On that day buggery will be made legal in 36 states. Compulsory in California.

Elsewhere the bodies of young men and women are returned from Afghanistan and Iraq to be buried in simple services by their loved ones. Innocent civilians caught in the cross-fire of war, or by suicide bombers are buried in paupers’ graves. Millions are laid-off as recession bites, nuclear weapons are built by madmen and pointed at their neighbours, floods and earthquakes hit the poorest nations in the world, tens of thousands die. People have their operations delayed or canceled because they’re not on the right medical insurance scheme, and the National Health Service hasn’t the money nor capacity to carry out procedures for cancers, heart defects or the like.

Just as long as we keep it all in perspective.