Cazakstan-
Fat people take ages to burn and it used to cause a "corking" effect on burnings over the course of the day.
The worst people were the ones who'd decided against conventional forms of either burning or burial.
One dead bloke turned up on the back of a flat-bed transit in three large wicker baskets.
She hated dealing with anyone whose family had whacked them in those American fridgefreezer casket things - now those did produce some noxious fumes.
And then there's the story about the people who all danced to "Great Balls of Fire" when their dearly beloved went into the cremator.
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And for the record, my pal has the worst job on the face of the planet.
He has to collect unused/unsold meat and carcasses from butchers throughout the land.
It ain't pleasant, but he's paid a fortune.
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handtightenonly
I don't have the constitution for a morgue.
My mother worked as chief stoker at a crematorium for years though - the stories she tells are unbelievable.
She had her own boiler suit and hard hat (even before health and safety came a knocking) and her colleagues used to take great joy in shouting "Di" (her name's Diane) whenever there was an enquiry from the office.