No doubt, some will consider, Einstein, Charlotte Brontë, Maybe even Donald Trump. There’s no accounting for taste I guess. Personally I would love to dine with Bob Dylan, I don’t think he’d want me though!
Here we go with a bit more nonesense the.

BOO BOOPY DO.

Popeye would be good, we could both fine dine on spinach
We could talk about Olive Oil, ‘til the evenings finish
Bluto could only sit and watch as I chatted to his rival
I know where my bread is buttered when it comes down to survival

Super Man, man of steel, no salt on his chips I trust
Nearly as bad as kryptonite , as he would turn to rust
Spider Man then, Oh no thanks!
I don’t like creepy crawlies
I’m no Snow White, so no Wicked queen with apple, I certainly don’t want poorlies

I’m as mad as a Hatter, as anyone will attest
Dormice such cute little things, when asleep they’re at there best
Alice such a lovely girl, a fantastical little sweetheart
But would we loose our heads at the behest of the Queen of Hearts

I’m going to settle then for someone safe, for my evening out
I’m going to ask Betty Boop, her hour glass figure, her ruby red pout
What if Betty turns me down though, “What then” I hear you ask
I may consider He Man, but I can’t see “him” in a basque.

All words Meadowhead Bard.