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This is not an idea for burgers made from Bagpuss. That would be disgusting.
Imagine a long street full of theme restaurants based on
classic children's television programmes, because that is
this idea is; a long street filled to the brim with eateries
which remind us of our own childhoods.
Follow a man in a bowler hat into Mr Benn's Bistro, and
you've taken your seat - watch him emerge from the
kitchen dressed in an amazing costume, such as a scuba
diver, a policeman or a lion tamer. If you don't know why
man in the bowler hat would do this, then Mr Benn's isn't
Bugpuss Burgers, nestled away behind the window of what
looks like an old curiosity shop, would offer a more sedate
environment, with every waitress called Emily, and music
provided by the marvellous mechanical mouse organ. If you
don't know what mouse organ music sounds like, then
this place probably won't ring your bell.
Fraggle Fries is based in the lighthouse at the end of the
street. Don't know why? Well, just keep moving on until one
of the restaurants gives you a warm fuzzy feeling.
And don't worry, when you find the place you like, you'll be
able to order any of the food from any of the menus in any
the restaurants, and the staff will be happy as anything to
cook it up for you, because nobody chooses where to eat on
this street based on what's cooking. On this street, you
for the place that reminds you of your youth because that's
where you'll find like minded people of a similar age.
I wouldn't want to spend any time at all discussing - say -
Bagpuss in Bagpuss Burgers, or Fraggle Rock inside the
lighthouse, but I think I'd enjoy talking to the clientele
because they all remember Bagpuss, the saggy old cloth cat
(but Emily loved him). And I trust people who loved Bagpuss
like I did.
||One [+] for reminding me of me yoof...a bit Ray Bradbury..but without the bee guns.
||And then, on your placemat, you can draw burple lines with your mortimer ichabod marker.
||I feel like I'm from a different dimension than the one from
which this idea sprouted.
||This seems to be an idea for people who have been raised by a TV set.
||Oho ono, the flaw with this idea is that it implies that the street ends, is cut off at the end of your nostalgia window, but it doesn't, no. The street keeps going, parents having dragged indolent offspring down the cobblestoned simulacrum of their own childhood find that near number 1985, the shops become less familiar, the stop motion cloth cats and mild suburban whimsy giving way to cackling skulls and ever living mummies bursting forth herky jerky from gloomy doors, you trek on and stop, no longer yourself moving but instead having movement simulated by the street walls projecting abstract geometries of movement, being catcalled from the upper storeys by pink puffballs and garish yellow hamsters, onward ever onward further into the bewildering noise, looking side to side at the much younger people you are walking with, amazed that they can seem thrilled by this unrelenting clattering banality.
||The trick to eating at The Trap Door is stopping your food crawling off your plate.