Six wishes granted from the sandwich genie
IF I was granted six wishes in my GP job, I wouldn’t waste the magic on patients: I’d wish for a really good lunch every Monday. Following this logic – keep up now, I don’t want to have to spell it out – that would be five wishes gone. For my sixth, curiously, I’d request that the Queen made me a minor noble peer. Specifically, the Earl of Sandwich.
I’m awfully fond of lunch. Not just the food: I love the whole package. The escape, the furtive dash through an empty waiting room and onto the street while my audible screen saver makes typing and sighing noises. Apparently, most