It could only happen in Inner Mongolio. The body of Mr Wang Diange was found in the wreckage of a house where he had been overseeing the wake of a previous family funeral. There was an explosion which took off half the roof and killed Mr Diange.
As it was raining and thundery, the authorities decided that the house, and Mr Wang, had been struck by lightning and the case was closed.
Then disaster struck at Mr Wang’s funeral when he was put into the creamtion oven, his body exploded, blowing the doors off the cremation chamber. The only thing that remained of Mr Wang when the fire was eventually put out was the remnants of a screw.
At first, local metallurgists were unable to determine what it was, though it bore a military serial number. An investigation revealed that it was a shell, because the Inner Mongolian weather bureau had been firing shells into the clouds filled with a special chemical in the hope of breaking up hail to protect a tobacco crop. WTF?
The weather bureau concluded that one shell failed to explode, hit the house, and lodged in Mr Wang’s body.
So there you go in Inner Mongolia it never rains, it pours. It pours explosive shells with the ability to kill you, and then blow you up at your own funeral.