State funeral service in Westminster Abbey, Union Jock at half mast, weeping queen and crowned heads of Europe in attendance, dirges played by band of the Royal Horticultural Corps, crowds of millions all in black, nation at a standstill, shops shut, flowers piled on war memorials, traffic bollards and at the doors of public urinals, fountains flowing with gin-and-grapefruit, irreplaceable tropical hardwood coffin placed in gold plated carriage hauled by steam engine (Gresley A4 streamlined 4-6-2 - first one through channel tunnel) distraught women immolating themselves under the wheels, taken to the vatican and interred in state after they've got rid of that red- headed old bugger that's occupying my grave, St Peter's closed to the public and declared a war grave and a mausoleum forever.

Or stick a skyrocket up me arse and launch me (AFTER I'm dead I said...).