Every morning, just after eight, Jacob Walsh unlocks the front door of Casselden & Walsh in Goole, East Yorkshire. He walks past the reception area and through the wood panelled doors into the Chapel of Rest, complete with altar and seating for 18. Then he knocks at the heavy white door of the morgue.

‘We always knock before we enter. And we always say “Morning!”. Never “good” morning, because of course it isn’t good,’ he explains. ‘Not for them.’

Once inside, he’ll check the order of the day on a big white board, pop on a green plastic apron, greet everyone by name and start chatting away.

About the weather outside. What’s going on in the world. And what he and his very capable staff will be doing to look after them today.

‘First, we’ll give you nice wash. Then a bit of a shave and a tidy up. Then we’ll get you dressed for the final stage of your journey.’ Which might be in a suit. Or a onesie. Or a football shirt. Or just a nice dressing gown.

And if the family have asked, he might put some music on – ‘Elvis, heavy metal, jazz, any of their favourites’. But, otherwise, it’s just gentle chat as the morticians start work, suturing a mouth shut with a plastic mouth guard and specialist curved needle, sealing eyelids and relying heavily on cotton wool for, well…

And here I’ll pause for a second so that if you’re eating your breakfast, or if this is already making you feel queasy, you’ve a moment to turn the page and think about something sunnier. Because there is lot more detail to come.

Jacob Walsh from Casselden & Walsh Independent Funeral Directors in Goole, East Yorkshire

Jacob Walsh from Casselden & Walsh Independent Funeral Directors in Goole, East Yorkshire

And it’s all thanks to a new breed of TikTok ‘death-fluencers’ – young, social media-savvy and very empathetic funeral directors and morticians, determined to remove the velvet curtain of discretion in funeral parlours and ‘positivising’ death by telling us everything.

About smells and secondary purges, embalming and post-mortems. And how cotton wool, a ‘morticians’ best friend’, is stuffed into every orifice. How tall, thin people take longer to cremate than short fat people, even at 950 degrees. And how, part way through the process, hip joints and gold teeth are fished out of the ashes by a giant magnet and sent off to Holland to be smelted down for charity.

‘We want to take away the fear of the unknown,’ explains Jacob, who has more than 25,000 followers on TikTok as the ‘Yorkshire Funeral Director’ and is a far cry from the black-suited, pale-faced and enduringly discrete undertakers of old.

This week, I also met Hayleigh Davis – aka ‘MortuaryTechUK’ – a freelance mortician and mother-of-four from the West Country with 287,000 followers and a passion for embalming. And Hollie, 25, who has run Hollie James Funeral Directors, in Radstock, Somerset, for three years now.

Hayleigh Davis – aka ‘MortuaryTechUK’ – is a freelance mortician and mother-of-four from the West Country with 287,000 followers and a passion for embalming

Hayleigh Davis – aka ‘MortuaryTechUK’ – is a freelance mortician and mother-of-four from the West Country with 287,000 followers and a passion for embalming

And there are plenty more like them, not forgetting Freddie Powell, the handsome young funeral director from Salford with half a million followers, who appeared on the Netflix dating show Love Is Blind.

All tell me they have been bombarded with questions over the years by friends, family and acquaintances. And all now answer them on TikTok. Anything from ‘why do you suture the mouth? (Because it decays very quickly and the muscles collapse, so they won’t look right for viewing without.) To why do they seal the eyes? (Most people die with their eyes open and they quickly dehydrate and ‘sink’.)

When someone dies, we’re used to calling the funeral director, handing everything over to him (and it usually is a him) and asking no questions about what goes on in the back.

Which means that most of us didn’t know – until now, sorry – that the bigger bones, such as the skull and vertebrae, don’t break down in the cremation process and have to be ground up.

But most of all, I suspect, we had no idea how much some funeral directors care – this lot, anyway. ‘The standard of care has to be the same as if it’s your gran,’ says Jacob. So he’ll hold their hands. And when they’re lying in their coffin in the Chapel of Rest, he has a quiet word.

‘I tell them they have no idea how deeply they’re loved. How badly they’re missed,’ he says.

All sorts of things are placed in coffins. Football trophies. Cigarettes. Bottles of booze. Ashes of family members. ‘A lot of lads want PS4 controllers – though anything with a battery has to come out before a cremation in case they blow up,’ says Hayleigh.

Hollie James has run her funeral director company for three years

Hollie James has run her funeral director company for three years

One of Jacob’s ladies was buried with a mobile phone.

Wow – in case she woke up?

‘No, no! I think she was just on the phone a lot. Though if she had, I’ve have been out of there quicker than Usain Bolt!’

But they insist that none of it feels sinister. ‘I’d happily sleep the night in the morgue on my own,’ says Hayleigh. ‘But in a thick sleeping bag because it’s cold.’

Sadly, though, while Jacob’s customers clearly adore him – popping in and out of his funeral parlour all day to drop off chocolates and thank you notes – not everyone likes this open-book approach to funeral care.

Particularly some of the old guard who feel strongly that secrets should be kept and dignity retained. And some potential customers. As a result, all of the TikTokkers have experienced their share of criticism. It doesn’t help that the industry is already reeling from recent scandals.

Earlier this year, Robert Bush, 47, of Legacy Independent Funeral Directors in Hull, was charged with 64 offences relating to 254 victims, after he allegedly failed to cremate bodies and return ashes to grieving families.

And more recently, Amie Upton, 38, a self-styled funeral director in Leeds, took dead babies back to her home and put them in baby-bouncers in her front room to watch television. ‘Please don’t tar us by the same brush,’ says Jacob. ‘We care. We care so much that we’re all crying out for some regulation.’

And here’s an odd thing. Because while there’s a voluntary body called the National Association of Funeral Directors, the UK’s funeral industry is completely unregulated.

‘Anyone can set up a funeral parlour,’ says Hayleigh. ‘You could do it tomorrow.’

Which is extraordinary given the scope of responsibility and duties. Everything from collections from homes, hospitals and hospices, to overseeing the funeral to cremating the bodies, liaising with grave-diggers, hiring hearses and guiding the distraught families through it all.

‘You also don’t need any qualifications – just a driving licence,’ adds Hayleigh, who used to work with animals in a zoo before she got a job in a funeral parlour.

Hollie fell into it when she was 16. Her mother had died during her GCSE year and her options were limited so she jumped at an apprenticeship in a funeral home and loved it. By time she was 20, she was their youngest ever funeral director. Three years later, she set up on her own.

Jacob used to work in hospitality, running a pub, but helped out at his local funeral parlour during Covid and realised he’d found his calling, so sold his pub and never looked back.

They all adore their jobs – despite the funny looks from new acquaintances. And the hours – Jacob and Hollie both work at least 60 to 70 hours a week, as well as weekends, bank holidays and even Christmas Day. ‘If someone dies, you drop everything and go and collect them,’ he says.

Of course, not all bodies are viewed, or are in a fit state for viewing, and if there’s no final goodbye, they’re left alone in the fridges, tags on, until it’s time for the service.

Even a teeny spike in temperature can cause difficult changes. Hayleigh likes the bodies to be kept at five or six degrees. ‘Any cooler, the skin gets dry and can be prone to mould. Any warmer, and the process speeds up,’ she says.

But some bodies deteriorate quicker, nonetheless, especially those riddled with cancer. ‘The cells are already mutating and it all just speeds up after death,’ says Jacob. Similarly, the area around an injury will fade fastest.

Of course, you can’t work with death every day and not be affected, particularly when young lives are cut short.

Jake currently has four people under the age of 40 in his care. ‘Of course it changes you. I’m not afraid of death, but I don’t want to die alone and I always try not leave the house on the back of an argument. Just in case.’

Hollie is still never prepared for the young. ‘It shocks you back to reality.’

The worse days for all are with children and babies, sent on their way with cuddly toys, books and family photos.

‘There’s an unwritten rule in the profession that you never ever charge for anyone under 18,’ says Jacob. ‘It’s just too heart-breaking,’ he says, suddenly very quiet.

It is all a lot to take in. Far too much for some. But perhaps it helps funeral directors to share the burden. Maybe it’s fairer that we all know what goes on behind the scenes.

For Jacob, it’s all about choice. ‘The more you know, the less there is to fear.’

They certainly all know what they want – closed coffin and cremation.

And now that I’m so alarmingly well informed, I’m with them. No primping or preening, no embalming or mouth suturing. No viewing. No fuss. Though in the very last moments – just before they close the lid – I think I’d quite like Jacob holding my hand and saying nice things in my ear.