WITH his rock star good looks, lust for women, fast cars and champagne, Howard Hodgson is not your average funeral director. This fourth-generation funeral director has written a book telling the incredible story of how he went from riches to rags and back to being loaded again. Howard — dubbed the David Beckham of death for his looks, style and aura of celebrity — has also fathered six children, including two year-old sons, George and Horatio.
He expanded his funeral business in Birmingham by opening new branch offices and installing an unpaid mistress in each of them.
He let the women run the business for him and live rent-free. His son — my grandfather — was known as the Stallion of Handsworth. But he had affairs and a drink problem which ended his marriage and plunged the firm into crisis. Howard did not realise that Midland Bank wanted to foreclose on the business he had just bought and that the firm had so little credit that they had to buy coffins in cash only.
One bloke took a swing at the chief mourner, missed him completely and hit me straight on the jaw. Before the funeral of a West Indian man, there was a huge family gathering at his home where a fight broke out around the coffin. Thankfully they started behaving. Charles was later found dead in four feet of water. He went to jail.
By day, Howard hid his grief and carried on running the business — but at night he went home and spent hours staring at a wall. He saved my life and I will love him forever. I just poured all that grief, all that anger, everything, into the lyrics. He was obviously a talented musician who would make more money from his own songs.
