Just prior to cleaning the oven [not putting my head in it], I think I can manage to get the drinks. Still pretty dusty in here, but the atmosphere of neglect is appropriate.

I’d just like to say a few words about the full lives lived by my much-loved cocktail guests, who are all very smartly turned out in black this afternoon. It was an honour to know them and be a part of their lives; everyone they met was touched by their warmth and their positive outlook in the face of adversity. They will all be remembered for their charity work and the amount of time they spent with disadvantaged children, in a non-michael-jackson kind of way.

It is my pleasure to award Graybo a posthumous g&t. We would have liked to hold today’s cocktail hour in the house of pain, but didn’t make the booking early enough.

Sleazy to the last, Mr Sevitz is the last cause. Such profound philosophical reflection is worthy of Anselm himself, so this delicious cocktail will not be going down A drain.

Destructor Dan went out with so much class, and on such a poetic note, that his is a double.

There is just time for Mr D to have one last of his usual before we show him the final exit; and I have asked The Stalker to read out some more of his interesting financial statistics about the stars who are donating their very valuable time to Live 8 tomorrow. This is something we should all be aware of, and I have subverted a Make Poverty History wristband just for the occasion [photo later].

It’s always nice to see an old-timer hobble down here on his last legs, and in this star spot today, we have Mike, who has a nice flick of the wrist with that scythe. Look, I had a glass of wine at lunchtime, and don’t plan to make any sense, so there.

Close family are represented over here by Dr Pockless and The Pete, with their pints of black velvety mourning guinness, although it’s well into the afternoon by now.

Better to have loved and lost, I say; coffins up!