So you have been chosen to award immortality to anyone of your choosing, Can be either dead or alive. Who would you give the chance to carry on their life's work.

Me, Ludwig van Beethoven

Ayrton Senna

Myself.

Not much point giving the gift of eternal life to a corpse I wouldn't think.

Which limits me to living people. None of whom I like quite so much as me. Mind you, do I get increasingly decrepit and ancient, or is the ageing process stopped at a certain point?

If it has to be someone other than I, and the resurrection thing is also doable, Oscar Wilde. I can't imagine the world would be any worse a place with his eternal presence in it.

Those who are born immortal instinctively know how to cope with it, but Wowbagger was not one of them. Indeed he had come to hate them, the load of serene bds. He had had his immortality thrust upon him by an unfortunate accident with an irrational particle accelerator, a liquid lunch and a pair of rubber bands. The precise details of the accident are not important because no one has ever managed to duplicate the exact circumstances under which it happened, and many people have ended up looking very silly, or dead, or both, trying.
Wowbagger closed his eyes in a grim and weary expression, put some light jazz on the ship's stereo, and reflected that he could have made it if it hadn't been for Sunday afternoons, he really could have done.
To begin with it was fun, he had a ball, living dangerously, taking risks, cleaning up on high-yield long-term investments, and just generally outliving the hell out of everybody.
In the end, it was the Sunday afternoons he couldn't cope with, and that terrible listlessness which starts to set in at about 2.55, when you know that you've had all the baths you can usefully have that day, that however hard you stare at any given paragraph in the papers you will never actually read it, or use the revolutionary new pruning technique it describes, and that as you stare at the clock the hands will move relentlessly on to four o'clock, and you will enter the long dark teatime of the soul.

There can be only one.

Only kidding. Sorry Ant. Dec, it's you bud.

Oh. Immortality. Immorality was a much more interesting title

Leonardo Da Vinci: just think if the inventions he would have dreamed up by now. It would literally change the world. Many times over.

My wife. Or me. Or my kid.

No chance of bestowing it on anyone else, life's work or not.