“Residents of Karasburg, located at the southern tip of Namibia, are still coming to terms with the brutal act of a local mortuary attendant who they suspect of having sex with a corpse over the festive season. Karasburg Mayor Julius Kalopa told Informanté that the victim had been an employee of the Municipality of Karasburg for over 20 years. Kalopa revealed that Municipality staff, the victim’s family and local residents were still coming to grips with the horrific incident in which Van Hendricks, a 30-year-old morgue attendant, is alleged to have had sexual intercourse with the corpse of a 44 year-old woman on December 23. Kapola said Karasburg residents had never heard of such a perverted act, and expressed grief that whilst the victim’s family were mourning the tragic death of a loved one following a horrific road accident, salt was added to wound by defiling the corpse… A co-worker of Hendrick’s revealed to Informanté that the suspect, ‘Behaves normally, but technically, you may say that he sick in the head…’” — Informanté (Namibia)

Time to get out your film camera and put on your director’s cap. Here’s the scene. The time — Christmas. The place — a mortuary in Namibia. The camera travels through a dark room showing the debris from a holiday party: the remains of a festive meal, plastic cups, empty bottles, scraps of red wrapping paper on the floor, mistletoe tacked to the top of a door frame. The camera comes to rest on a lone worker, wrapped in a white lab coat, hoisting a stiff body onto a slab. The job done, he steps away from the slab and sits down at a desk to fill out some paperwork. A bottle of scotch, abandoned by a departing reveler, sits on the desk. With a shrug that says “I’m bored, I’m alone, why not,” the man in the lab coat pours some scotch into a cup festooned with a candy cane. He takes a sip, makes a face as though to say “whew, that’s strong stuff,” and continues with his paperwork.

Cut. An AM radio plays “Jingle Bell Rock.” The man has removed his lab coat. He stumbles, still sloshing a drink in his hand, back to the body on the slab. He picks up a scalpel. He is about to make an incision. Cut to point-of-view shot. The camera moves slowly from the abdomen up to the chest — the female chest — and holds there for an uncomfortably long time. Cut back to the morgue attendant. He wipes his face with the back of his hand. He appears to be considering something. He finishes the scotch in his cup, sets it carelessly on the slab, and ignores it as it falls to the floor. He reaches out a hand, tentative at first, and cups the breast. It’s clear what he’s thinking, or it’s clear that he’s not thinking at all. Cut to a shot of the mistletoe and fade out…

You can carry it on from there. You know what happens. It’s the scenario for a film titled “The Necrophile’s Christmas.” Good luck getting it into theaters.

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