If you were to ask me what my Death Row meal would have been two years ago, I would have answered: medium rare fillet steak, fried eggs, fried onions, chips and lashings of English mustard.

The most important component of that meal would have been the mustard. There is only one mustard: Colman’s English Mustard. Anything else is a poor substitute. It’s a Coca Cola v Pepsi thing.

But I didn’t always love English mustard. Well, not according to the following tale my mother likes to pull out of her memory when the steak knives are brought out of the cutlery tray.

Apparently, I used to be the kind of kid who wanted to eat everything that everyone else had. I also had a dummy tied around my neck until I was about four years old. One day, my father was eating steak coated in English Mustard and I started crying because he wouldn’t give me any. In the end he decided he would teach me a lesson and dipped my dummy into the yellow goodness.