A type of sandwich from Subway. It consists of a 12-inch long roll with one of two types of American cheese, exactly eight meatballs in a sloppy tomato-and-unidentifiable sauce, vegetables of your choice, toasted for 2 minutes 30 seconds and, if you wish, a number of paintlike sauces that I've never had the courage to try because they look like they make you crap blood.
Not the sort of sandwich you can have at your desk in work, because you'll end up with the sauce everywhere.
However, it is the best post-pub food in existence by far. If you've been up the Dog and Trumpet all night and had eleven pints of Bishop's Finger, three double Ricards on ice, and have got the munchies, this is what you need. Unlike a kebab from a van, it won't make you barf, and the deeply chemical nature of the sauce must react and somehow neutralise the alcohol in your belly, or at least it's fibrous enough (and that's just the meatballs) to absorb a lot of it. Needless to say, it's saved a lot of people from a lot of unpleasant situations. The searing heat of the sauce as it comes out the tub penetrates the beer haze round your mouth somehow, and it settles in your stomach like a big friendly stone. It's also super caloriffic, and emits a useful stench that wards off vegetarians (case in point: my former boss, a vegetarian, got annoyed with me slightly for eating one in the office, as it "smelt like death.")
Did I also say that despite it being sloppier and floppier than Jordan's quim (and nicer tasting, I trow), it's magically drunkproof and that I have slopped from every one of them I have eaten while sober and held together every one I have eaten while drunk without dribbling any of it?
It also tastes lovely, despite the rather fibrous meatballs which probably have the same bread content as Corporal Jones's sausages, the unidentifiable sauce, and the plastic cheese. Much like a Jaffa cake, the individual components are skankier than the sort of women who hang round Mo*Vida trying to score with a footballer but the whole is god-like.
Oh yes, it is truly a king among sandwiches. And if anyone thinks differently, they're probably the sort of person who has lots of mayo, and we all know what sort of folks they are! ("I'd prefer a sauce that didn't look so much like come, myself." - Roland Deschain, "The Dark Tower" by Stephen King.)
So next time you're oot on the tap, why not get one of these rather than going to Dennis's Kebab Van, where the only thing you'll pick up is botulism.
(Node 11 of 30 of my IRON NODES).