“There she is,” whispered Seb.

“You weren’t lying about her looks, were you?” said Mark, wide-eyed. He started to walk over, but was yanked back by Seb.

“What’re you doing?” Seb hissed.

“I’m going to go over there and ask her out,” Mark replied.

“I didn’t ask you here so you could ask her out!”

Mark frowned. “Well then why am I here?”

“Well I can’t do this on my own,” said Seb, matter-of-factly.

“You can’t just walk up to someone and ask them out?”

“Not,” scowled Seb, “At a funeral parlour, no.”

“Personally, I’m of the opinion that so long as it’s not her funeral, you’re basically alright.”

“You have a very unique set of moral standards, you know that?”

“Thanks!” smiled Mark.

“Besides which,” Seb went on, “She’s always here.”

“Blimey. Maybe she’s a Necrophiliac.”

“She works here,” shouted Seb. “That’s two taboos in one shot, that is – asking a girl out at a funeral, and asking her out while she’s at work.”

“I say just do it,” said Mark. “But we should probably bury your Mum first.”