I suspect Swicegood to be a pseudonym - my money is on either Ray Dennis Steckler, a man with almost as many names as movies, or Ted V. Mikels. Either would seem viable contenders for a cheap and cheerful piece of schlock such as this. A trio of motorcyclists dismember pretty girls: two use bit carved off as ingredients in their cafe, while the third, the titular funeral director, overcharges grieving relatives to bury what's left. But when one of their victims, Miss Poultry (no prizes for guessing that she ends up on the menu as "breast of chicken"), is the secretary of a private eye, the net begins to tighten, and the murderers prove there's no honour among psychotic, cannibalistic serial killers.
Obviously inspired by the gore films of H.G.Lewis, this adopts a similarly tongue-in-cheek approach, mixing cheap (but enthusiastic) gore with black humour, hammy overacting and a clear self-awareness of its own limitations. However, knowing that you suck is entirely different from not sucking, and it's probably fortunate that this barely scrapes over the hour mark. Dannis, as the undertaker, makes a decent impression, but the rest of the cast are forgettable or annoying, and the attempts at humour rarely provoke more than a smile.