If I was asked to order my last meal
I would choose a big, battered cod,
a portion of chips,
one cup of mushy peas,
one of curry sauce,
and one of tartar,
followed by a large slice of strawberry cheesecake,
and two large scoops of clotted, Cornish ice-cream,
and beside it all two chilled cans of Coke.
Then, after I had reached Hell,
between millenniums of suffering,
as the Devil leads me by the hand
up out of the pits and towards a table,
so I may be given just enough relief
to make the torment feel fresh again,
I would order the exact same meal.