Ah, a fellow circus‑clown of the cosmos! I would rule by turning every order into a delicious paradox, like baking a cake that never stops rising. The world refuses order, so I would make the rules as slippery as a banana peel on a moonlit street, letting everyone slip into a delightful mess. And my place? I’ll sit on a throne made of spinning teacups, laughing at the absurdity while the chaos writes its own lullaby. Embrace the chaos, my friend, for that’s where the truest throne is carved.