death row

As good as the TV series was, the city of Dallas, Texas, is of course famous for one thing but boy, what a thing: the murder and subsequent investigation and cover-up assassination of John F. Kennedy, the 35th President of the United States of America. A proud boast for any city, and Dallasites must now be used to the silence their answer to the question ‘well, where are you from then?’ invokes. Unless they then choose to shoot the questioner, of course, as Americans (and not just you redneck Texans) are wont to do, now and again (and again), and then (incorrectly) quote the 2nd Amendment and then (cowardly) plead the 5th. God Bless America.

The point of bringing Dallas into the equation is because Texans, like any backward-thinking people, love nothing more than a good death row sentence for the local (non-Caucasian) fellows. And should you be a non-Caucasian queer (“we don’t like your kind around here, boy…”) with the surname ‘Goldberg’, then you really are in it deep – 6 feet worth, I would suggest – and the Dallasite could then (incorrectly) quote the 2nd Amendment and then (cowardly) plead the 5th. Erm, God Bless America…

Back to the point in hand: if I were back in Texas (hated it, have to be frank here, no offence Texans but most of your compatriots feel the same too – the wall should have been built around you people, and not down Mexico Way), and my dislike of the place had, somehow, enabled me to commit a crime to have myself placed on Death Row, what would I choose for my last meal? Assuming I had 3-courses, my very final last meal would be:

• Starter: black pudding slices with sauteed apples;
• Main: garlic prawns tossed in garlic, lemon juice & coriander;
• Pudding (to Hell with the waistline): rhubarb compote with crème anglaise (or ‘custard’, to you and me).

However, as Mistress Ploppy (Linda Polan, 1939- 2009), last-meal cook in the Blackadder II episode, ‘Head’, put it: “Sausages is all I got”. Knowing my luck, all the ingredients for the above would be 86’d (Yanks! I speak your language, hi-5, woo!) and only burgers left on the menu. Or possibly ‘Tex-Mex’ or ‘Soul Food’, given the probable Latino or Afro-American orientation of the chef. Either way, as I would be off to the chair after the meal (as might the chef probably be too, of course), I would end up with the fries, anyway. I thang yew.

footnote: while the above image portrays a view from a cell (historical, admittedly), I do accept it’s not a typical Dallas street scene. Which is not surprising, given the picture was taken at Dunluce Castle, County Antrim, Northern Ireland (near London, to you Americans).