Ever wanted to read an episode of Dallas written in a Shakespearean style? More specifically, the legendary “Who shot JR?” episode of Dallas? Yeah, sure you did.
And guess what? Now you can. Players, play on…
‘Dallas in a Shakespearean style’
Episode title: ‘Who didst shooteth JR?’
VOICEOVER: We set our scene, forsooth, at fair Southfork, realm of the great lord, JR EWING. Alas and alack! JR hath been brought low by musket-shot. Ist he about to shuffle off this mortal coil? Find out this night on Dallas! (Sponsored by ‘Out, damn spot!’ stain remover, as used by Lady Macbeth and other homicidal celebrities.)
Enter BOBBY, SUE ELLEN and MISS ELLIE, stage left. They art dressed in Elizabethan-style pantaloons and ruff collars, which don’t go at all with 10-gallon Stetson hats. Bobby poureth a huge crystal decanter of brandy for every Christian soul present. Only then doth he notice JR’s unconscious body on the expensive Persian rug.
BOBBY: Hell’s bells! Ist this mine brother JR I see before me?
Miss Ellie screameth like witches on the moor.
MISS ELLIE: Oh, JR! Thou poor, forked creature!
SUE ELLEN: Don’t you mean ‘poor, Southforked creature’? Arf, arf.
A comical drum roll doth rise from the orchestra pit. Enter THE PRINCE (of Texas), stage right. He ist charged with doing the Lone Star state some service by discovering the knave who fireth the shot. The Prince looketh a bit like George Dubya in a crown.
THE PRINCE: Hey-nonny-nonny! What villainy ist here?
BOBBY: Your Majestic Majesty-ness, pray allow me. Mine brother JR hast been shot, though praise Jesu Christu, ist not yet dead. High alcohol levels in hist blood hath acted as some kind of preservative. God save Scotch whiskey! Hoorah!
THE PRINCE: Aye, mine CSI alchemists and necromancers doth concur. Art there witnesses to this fell deed?
A POLICE OFFICER armed with a gilt-edged sword and Kevlar jacket steps forward.
POLICE OFFICER: One fellow didst see all, my liege, but his evidence ist unusable in thine court. ‘Tis naught but a tale told by a madman, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
BOBBY: Yep, that’s Cliff Barnes for you.
Suddenly JR stirreth and reacheth out a hand.
JR: A horse, a horse…mine kingdom for a horse…
SUE ELLEN: Good old JR – a cowboy to the last. And I meaneth that in both senses of the word.
The Prince espies BING CROSBY’S DAUGHTER lurking offstage.
THE PRINCE: What about yon maid standing hence? She has a lean and hungry look.
MISS ELLIE: Yes, I didst thinketh ‘twas Teri Hatcher for a minute.
THE PRINCE: Come hither, wench!
Bing Crosby’s daughter enters stage left, looking as guilty as Pope Innocent X when they found out he didn’t quite liveth up to his name.
THE PRINCE: Now is the hour of my discontent. Discontent that I hath not cracked this case, that I dost resemble George Dubya, and that my crown ist starting to feel very heavy under these studio lights. Fie, woman! Give thine confession.
Bing Crosby’s daughter bursteth into a veritable river of tears.
BING CROSBY’S DAUGHTER: A pox on all your houses, ‘twas me! I didst give the rogue a belly full of lead, ha ha ha!
THE PRINCE: How cometh it to pass thusly?
BING CROSBY’S DAUGHTER: JR hath promiseth to leave Sue Ellen and marrieth me. He wast all romantic when it suiteth – ‘Oh, Bing Crosby’s daughter, shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’ and so on. Then I discovereth he spaketh with forked tongue.
SUE ELLEN: Hey, thou art welcome to the creep. I never liketh him anyway.
THE PRINCE: Bailiff, throw yon wench into the stocks. She hath loved, not wisely but too well. Much, much too well. And now, dear friends, we must end our play in the traditional fashion.
They all stab, poison and choke each other to a bloody end.
VOICEOVER: This wast the final episode of Dallas, but make sure to tune in on the morrow for its replacement, A Midsummer Night’s Celebrity Dance-Off. A good night to all, and to all a good night!
Darragh McManus, author and journalist 
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