Gidday, and welcome to the GUNSTON FAMILY FUNERAL HOME homepage. (based out of Woolongong down Parramatta way. Take a left at Aunty Ethyls place, go on a bit, bit more, we're on the left.)
The death of someone is one of the most difficult times in our lives.
We here at the GUNSTON FAMILY FUNERAL HOME feel truly blessed to be able to help people through this very difficult time in their lives.
We're a family-run business, the Gunston brothers Wayne, Gene-o and me (I'm Trev) as well as Aunty Doris who handles the basting side of things and what-have-you.
In your hour of grief, you can rest easy and leave all of the arrangements to us.
We will walk you through all the steps, right from, say, identifying a prick you want whacked, right through to patting down the last smegs of dirt on the bastards shallow grave.
When you deal with the Gunstons, you deal with pros.
Reliable, tasteful and discreet, we get the job done.
We haven't lost one yet!
We'll get that mess sorted out, no fucking questions asked, squire.
WE ARE THE BEST.
THE FUCKING BEST.
Let's meet the members of the Gunston Family Funeral Home Staff.
Geno "Gene-o" Gunston. (Funeral Director)
Gene-o can dissasemble, recalibrate and reassemble his Maccullough 48" TwinDeforester Global Warmer 0.2 chainsaw in 24 seconds flat. Blindfolded. In the dark. At night. Wearing nothing but his gruds. He is a fucking legend.
Wayne Gunston. (Funeral Director) These days Wayne "inadvertently" huffs so much perming solution and formaldehyde that when coupled with the urinal cakes he smokes he can't even hardly fuckin' see straight. Wayne-o's in charge of "taxidermying" the dead pricks. Bugger me, no wonder none of the fuckin' sofas around here have any stuffing left in them...
Aunty Doris Gunston. (Funeral Director)
Aunty Doris is the brains behind the show. Whether it's getting Reliable Louie on the blower at 3 am for some urgent business or stitching up some fat prick with her trusty Bernina, Aunty Doris is always on the ball.
Trevor Gunston (Funeral Director)
That's me, Trev, behind the wheel of the family hearse. Looks like I'm giving it what for too! Probably heading out to take a corpse, I mean coffin to the graveyard. That's where the coffins go.
As a full service funeral home, we have a large variety of caskets and burial vaults for your convenience in selection. A general price list is available upon request from our funeral home or by mail or by telephone. Or, we could just type the price lists here to cut through the bullshit, straight to the chase, as it were.
Coffins, mate, they're the wings of the Arch Angel Gabriel bearing the dead pricks to sunnier climes.
Let's take a look at the range of options we have on offer.
Affordably priced at just $5.95, this option is tailor-made for the budget-minded bereaver.
Ideal for those looking to just get the rotten old dead prick into the ground.
We'll let you have this one for $29.95.
Custom-made by Gene-O, he knocks these swish numbers out in no time at all with his trusty MacCullough chainsaw. 48" bar, twin-calibrated, dual-locked racing stripes, mate, pardon my fucking French but this chainsaw is the fuckin' Rolls Royce of chainsaws. As you can see, Gene-o is pretty fucking handy with it too.
Embalming and Cremation
Embalming is most often a matter of practical necessity for a service with the body present. For cosmetic purposes. Rest assured, Aunty Doris will get your dearly departed clogged full of snot again.
The embalming room. Bit of strife about the place today. No worries, Wayne will get that shit tidied up before your next rellie throws an epi on the bus and carks it.
The embalming fluid juice extractor. We use nothing but the ripest hand-selected loquats in our embalming procedure. Aunty Doris's blender is completely different to this one and it is upstairs in the kitchen. We run a tight ship here at GUNSTON FAMILY FUNERAL HOMES.
We have a wide range of custom-made tombstones.
All three were artfully hewn by Gene-o and his trusty MacCullough chainsaw.
They are affordably priced at just $89,995 each.
ps, this last option is half-price due to a transcription error. (Gene-o got mixed up between his chainsaw and his shovel. He is a stupid prick at times.)
Yes, indeedy, it's the releasing of the snow-white doves. This symbolises peace and freedom. "Souls no longer shackled to the corporeal funereal phenomena of earthen torpor" as Wayne once legendarily blurted out, to the absolute gobsmacked amazement of the entire suddenly-silent Redfern RSL. Fumes from those urinal cakes in his hair? I dunno. Maybe some of the urinal pucks, forgotten over time, as the months turned into years, finally leached down, down through his hair, right down, down directly through his hair roots, down into his skull, and, after a long, long trip, down into his tiny little brain.
Well, rather than try and nick some pigeons from the local park and paint them white as Wayne STUPIDLY suggested one day, here is one of our custom-made doves. Thanks again to Gene-o and his trusty Maccullough 48". Like the poofs pictured above, you can hiff the dove up in the air if you so please.
One dove per funeral per dead prick.
We've only got one dove so don't fuckin' throw it too high into the air, the little fluffybunny might break.
Facebook? Yes, we are on that stupid bloody thing!
Righto. So next time some old git you know up and carks it, be sure to give us a bell. We're in the phonebook under "G." Thats "G" for "Gunston," the #1 name in undertaking.
I was bored shitless at the zoo last month so while no bastard was looking, I smashed a wee hole in the "WORLDS MOST DANGEROUS SPIDERS" exhibit, filled up me big fuckin' jar then toodled off and dumped the contents in some pricks garden here in Wollongong! Poor bastard! Hahahaha. I am a funny prick at times.
Anyway, let's take a look at what that poor bastard has in store for him.
"The Blackbacked CockPincer."
Fully 3-feet long and named as such after his habit of strangling whole chickens. Or at least I hope so! Haha.
"The Evangelion Of Certain Death."
Looks deceptively big in this photo. It's only really 9 inches long. He only comes out at night too so the prick in Wollongong can rest easy during the day.
"The Bung-Eyed Scroteface."
This one is said to have eaten a whole tribe in the Andes. Then carried the bones home to feed his family. What a good bloke!
"The Gestapo Tarantulator".
I think he's named this cos' he only dines on other tarantulas. Dickhead in Wollons should be fine then. Unless he's a tarantula too! Haha!
I am a funny c**t at times.
"The Jellied Organ Asphyxiator"
It looks like a dead branch but is actually a garden-based jellyfish. Yep, thats right, one tendril-touch from this fella and you've got roughly 12 seconds to scratch out your last will and testament. "Dear Fucked of Wollo......"
"Armageddon On Stilts."
Went back to ask the zookeeper about this one. Bloke crossed himself and fled into the night.
*photo deleted to spare mankind.
"The Flying Scrotum Magnet."
No ifs or buts about this one, he's going straight for the cock. 18 inches long, this fella is. That poor nutjob in Wollongong has no show! Hahahaha.
"The Budgie Jitterbug RectalTrojan: Son of The Blackbacked CockPincer"
Neighbourhood budgies sing the blues when this fella starts partying up their arses.
"I'm Wayne Gunston of The Gunston Record Emporium. I'm in fuckin' charge.
"Records? Yeah. Whatever. Just pay up." - Wayne Gunston.
"The Gunston Record Emporium is located on the outskirts of Woolongong in a big fucking warehouse. Are you coming shopping here today? You fucking better be. And bring all your bloody money. Rich wanker. We price our records at a flat rate of $50 bucks each because they are all fuckin' impossible to find.
We specialise in hard-to-find records.
Here is a picture of some of our hard-to-find records:
"I cannot find a thing." - a customer (top right).
"For your information, Mr Customer, our records are a piece of piss to find if you know the Goldmine Dewey Decimal System. Do you know this system? Didn't think so. Bloody record newbie."
"Clean up on Aisle 7!"
Smart arse. Any record expert such as myself could plainly see that these records have been arranged via Goldmine Dewey Decimal System protocols and all records are graded "F". F stands for "Fucken Pay Up".
Busy day today. I count no less than 68 browsing customers in that picture above.
"The pipe? That's bloody shelving. Stupid newbie."
"Don't sit on the fucking palate! Lazy wanker! Get fuckin' shopping!"
"See that pipe? First pressing. Signed by Ringo. Yours for $50 bucks."
"Excuse me but did you just SIT on the palate? You lazy bastard. You just broke 400 records. You now owe me $4,000 bucks."