Dying men are candid because they don’t expect to see us again. It’s their last day at work, so they don’t have to worry about causing offence, or making life awkward for themselves. They can scream if they want to scream; confess undying love; dynamite the unbearable niceties tomorrow enforces on us…and be real, for once. Even if “real” is another way of saying they don’t have to suffer the consequences of life. Deathbed candour is only as revealing as your faith in the supreme “revealing moment”. More likely, we don’t know the truth about ourselves five minutes before we die; instead, we know one truth: without the countdown, we’re all pragmatists.