If i had my way, i'd be driven to the countryside, drink all day and then visit a rural Subway as the moon arose and stole the sun's promotion. That branch would hand me the vast, popular wrapping that held a 9ft meatball sleeping bag just within. I'd return to my tent and cover myself in a litre of mayonnaise to make me the perfect, organic, European innard. There'd be garlic in my pockets and that anti-cholesterol Flora under my tongue. Healthy, wealthy, obese. The American Dream.
You would transform the world into a sugary coated mellon suited for contemplation and side splitting japery. Doubt would be annexed and we would rejoice at the free flowing Mars bars and BBQ Linda McCartney sausages. Buses may run on time but only when viewed from an acute angle.