For me, I guess my dream gunge experience would be a food fight. A formal dinner occasion, prestigious and mature gentlemen, and myself, invited to a feast. On the table would be an assortment of sticky, sloppy foods. Mashed potatoes, mushy peas, beans, spaghetti, ketchup, mustard, a shepherds pie with thick gravy. It would start slow. I'd spill wine in my neighbour's lap. They would put my tie in the soup. The person next to me would be laughing and so their face would end up in the mashed potatoes. Slowly it would get worse and worse. Smearing, then squirting, then pocket filling, there'd be a lot of that, then throwing, until the point of no return is reached and people's face are being pushed and items poured over peoples heads. Clothes would be torn, everything an utter mess. And then the desserts would be brought out. Cakes, cream pies, custards, chocolate sauce. The waiter would be clean, but not for long. Pastries would be placed on people's chairs and then sat on. It would be a huge, glorious mess. For the grand finale, someone would tackle me on the table and we would begin wrestling, using whatever scraps were left.