Your last line reminds me of a famous entry in Samuel Pepys' diary: "I went out to Charing Cross, to see Major-general Harrison hanged, drawn, and quartered; which was done there, he looking as cheerful as any man could do in that condition."
I'm actually quite a student of capital punishment, and know a surprisingly disgusting amount of things about many of the various ways. The winner IMHFO was an account I once read (and this time, my Google-fu fails me) of a Roman general and his wife who were condemned for treason or some such. They were first chucked into a cesspit, where passersby could shit on them or throw garbage at them for a few days. Then they were pulled out, and impaled on stakes up their arses. But slowly, so their weight would just slowly bring them down more and more onto the stakes. In the general's case, a splinter managed to separate part-way from the main stake and work its way out his wang. They were stuck there for a few days, until a passing legionary — who had served under that general and remembered him fondly — did them the honour of stabbing their hearts with his sword so they'd finally be done with it.
Yes, I am a sick fuck, and if Canada ever brings back the noose, I'm gonna volunteer. And if I ever get a chance to go back to Ottawa, I'm going to sniff around the National Archives and see if they've declassified any of the old hanging protocols. (It's been damn near 50 years since the last hangings in Canada, so one would hope that they'd be let loose by now.)
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Date: 2011-01-20 01:36 am (UTC)I'm actually quite a student of capital punishment, and know a surprisingly disgusting amount of things about many of the various ways. The winner IMHFO was an account I once read (and this time, my Google-fu fails me) of a Roman general and his wife who were condemned for treason or some such. They were first chucked into a cesspit, where passersby could shit on them or throw garbage at them for a few days. Then they were pulled out, and impaled on stakes up their arses. But slowly, so their weight would just slowly bring them down more and more onto the stakes. In the general's case, a splinter managed to separate part-way from the main stake and work its way out his wang. They were stuck there for a few days, until a passing legionary — who had served under that general and remembered him fondly — did them the honour of stabbing their hearts with his sword so they'd finally be done with it.
Yes, I am a sick fuck, and if Canada ever brings back the noose, I'm gonna volunteer. And if I ever get a chance to go back to Ottawa, I'm going to sniff around the National Archives and see if they've declassified any of the old hanging protocols. (It's been damn near 50 years since the last hangings in Canada, so one would hope that they'd be let loose by now.)