A Durham (UK) vicar was lately distressed at the amount of vandalism taking place in his fine old cemetery and decided to start a public fund to restore the toppled headstones. The fund was a great success, capturing the imagination of the local press as well as his parishioners. Some months in however, said said vicar received a visit from sheepish dignitaries of the Durham District Council who informed him that his precious headstones hadn't been vandalised as such, rather they'd been made safe by lowly paid youths passing as council workers according to a Heath and Safety remit implemented after a child was crushed in a freak accident involving a falling headstone in Nottingham - or was it Norwich? Either way, the enthusiasm of these council gravestone topplers knew no reasonable bounds, as a visit to many of Durham's once fine cemeteries will testify.

Not so Saint Oswald's, happily, wherein stands the headstone of The Poor, Poor Man, one Henry Gelston, who in this life suffered much misfortune. Henry's memorial was erected by a local benefactor who bought up all the plots between Henry's grave and the road with the notion that because in life he was behind everyone, in death he would be behind no-one. Worth a look if you're passing; you'll find his headstone by the steps that come off the river path into the graveyard.

What do you call a pile of gabardine raincoats in a cemetery?