I went to a funeral last week for my great-uncle Tony, and later a wake. The whole thing was phenomenally depressing, but the thing that sticks in my mind from the whole day is the sign that Tony’s son had made reminding guests to shut the garden gate lest the family dog get out.

Is there something wrong about that? I mean, in a period of mourning the thoughts that filled my head were “So does that mean I can leave it open? And how is the dog supposed to read that?” I’m going to call it inappropriate humour syndrome, which doesn’t have a cool acronym. Suggestions are welcome, though alternatives escape me even more so than the ability to mourn.

Oh, and Batman totally fixes the washing machines where I work. How cool is that?