Subway’s track record over the past 5 years has been about as clean as Steven Avery’s used Q-Tip. Just to review, they pick a spokesperson with zero tangible skills besides losing enough pounds to not be considered grossly obese, only to find out he’s a fucking diddler. They literally could have picked ANY other person who lost a little weight, but instead they choose the porky pedafile.
But the PR nightmare for Subway doesn’t stop there. The actual talent they’ve hired to represent them have blossomed about as well as Paris Hilton’s singing career. From RGIII to the dude who blew his hand off with fireworks to a dude whose been milking his skating gold medal for 20 years (Apolo Ohno), Subway picks their team as well as JPP picks flowers.
Point is, Subway has taken more L’s to the face than Willie Nelson. It was only a matter of time before it secured a W. Even a broken clock is right twice a day. Even that nerd burger Danny O’Shea can beat his brother Kevin down Cherry Hill, once.
My PR advice to Subway: embrace the villain.