The UK does not want 'Hooters'. It is a retrograde step for a country dedicated to gender equality

Monday, 1 November 2010

Guest Writer: Percy the Sexist Pig Reviews Hooters


There's been so much fuss in the papers lately about this silly old breast-themed restaurant that's opened up in Bristol's recently regenerated Harbourside (a conservation area, no less), that I decided to head down and see it for myself. I just don't understand the hoo-hah. These bloody wimmin have even kicked up a stink in my home sty up in London's Oxford Street, distributing thousands of leaflets suggesting M&S is partly at fault for sub-letting their former food shop to this lovely chain of breast-themed restaurants.

What's the problem? When my friend (the Ugly Duckling) and I arrived at Hooters, we were greeted with whoops and cheers as the lovely ladies from all over the restaurant rushed to seat us. They had no qualms about inviting two farmyard animals into a public place selling food - all are welcome here.

When we were seated at our orange booth, I was pleased to see everything was coated in plastic, as sometimes I like to roll in my food, and plastic is much easier to clean than cotton. I was also thrilled to see a roll of kitchen towels on the table, as I'm such a mucky eater - and frankly, the Ugly Duckling is so ugly that I was glad to construct a paper bag to go over her head so I didn't have to look at her while I ate - I could still see her chest just fine, though.

However, being mere animals, we don't have much money, and found most things on the menu out of our reach. I refuse to work because I'm a lazy bastard, and the Ugly Duckling is too ugly to work so instead she claims benefits, so we scrapped together what pennies we could afford for two soft drinks (£1.80 each) and some wings and fries to share (nearly £11) - we won't be able to afford to eat for the rest of the week now, and can only hope to find some sxraps in the bottom of Tesco's bins to sustain us.

The food was really greasy, too, and I started to feel quite queasy. Ugly Duckling didn't eat much either, and started looking a bit green around the gills. In fact, she went off to the 'John Crapper' (as the sign labelled it) and didn't come back for ages. Which was a relief, as she is pig ugly. Hang on, 'pig' ugly? But I'm a pig and I'm brilliant.

Hmm. Am not so sure this Hooters place is up to much. It was damn expensive for an everyday pig like me, and I had to leave before 9pm as I wasn't accompanied by my mum. I did enjoy looking at Danny Dyer on the TV screens though - I really support his views on how to deal with ex-girlfriends. He's one of my idols. Him and Dr Hootie.

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