Monty Python and Predictive Prophecy

I remember Monty Python's Meaning of Life for several reasons.  I got in to see it under age (which always made the move somehow more enjoyable, however poor the quality -- my equivalent of Augustine's stealing the pears, I guess).  I thought Mr Creosote was truly the most revolting thing I had ever seen.  And I just about ruptured myself laughing at the scene where the guy in the council flat answers the door to find two medics outside who tell him they've come to collect his liver.  When he remonstrates with him, pointing out the perfectly reasonable and obvious point that he's not dead yet, they reply with the equally reasonable point that the organ donor card doesn't say anything about being dead before one donates organs.  Then, armed with the relevant Black and Decker power tools, they proceed to remove his liver.  OK, the fact that I laughed shows something about my twisted sense of humour, but at least I thought the whole thing was a joke.  Now it appears that it wasn't -- it was simply a piece of dramatic, predictive prophecy.  For its fulfillment, see here.  It's a funny old world, innit?