Perish the thought that a man of my standing would be seen in McDonald's, the eaterie for the nutritionally anarchic.
I used to go occasionally. While temporarily exiled in the Grimlands way up in the far North Sea, one of the first things I'd do on holiday back in civilisation was to visit McDonald's as part of the “city experience”.
I always ended up saying: “Never again.” It was the garish lighting that did it. That and the menus which, like those in trendy coffee shops, seemed over-complex. However, I'm impressed with the staying power of McDonald's.
A woman in that Manhattan bought a Happy Meal and, sadly, photographed it every day for six months.
In that time, the meal apparently hasn't aged. No mould or anything.
It doesn't even pong.
Bear that in mind next time you buy a burger: left to its own devices, the ruddy thing would probably outlive you.