I would love to be the first person to colonise the moon. I think I’d make a great dictator. I mean ‘leader’. First of all I would change its name from ‘The Moon’ to ‘Miles’ and it would have but one continent. This continent would be called ‘The Wales’, or ‘Eff England’. I haven’t decided yet. I would let the people vote, then dismiss all of them and go with what I wanted anyway, because it would be a democracy and that is how a democracy works. The people would need a name, too. Probably something like ‘Milesians’ or ‘Milesatronics’. Probably ‘Milesatronics’. It has a nice ring to it. A robotic ring. And everyone wants to be more robot, right? I know I do. I’d have four arms. two for practicality and two for show. The same goes for my legs. And my penis. And I wouldn’t need these fucking glasses. I’d only have two eyes for the first time in my life! And I’d be able to bear this fucking intense heat. I think I’d also program myself to slip into Snoop Doggs voice for one sentence every nine sentences just to fuck with people. And I’d have to drink booze for fuel! That’s the Futurama rule, and they’ve had Stephen Hawkin on it, so you know they have their facts right. And if someone I didn’t like tried talking to me, I could just pretend to shut down. Also, I would make sure nobody brought any form of music to Miles and I would force the Milesatronics to keep the concept secret from any future generations. Then, two generations down the line, I will release an album of Beatles compilations, but under the name ‘Two-Times & The Mileses’ and I would be able to take all claim for it on the glorious planet of Miles. I’d also try to slip the word ‘miles’ into ever title. “It’s Been a Hard Days Miles”, “Eight Miles a Week”, “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Miles”. You get the idea.
But more importantly I want to be a robot. Called Steve.