Death of a Restaurant
The unofficial funeral for every Little Chef, presented by Megan Clark-Bagnall
B. 13/10/1958 – D. 31/01/2018
Sermon by: Mr & Mrs Lord
We are Megan and Owen and in 2017 we visited every Little Chef. That means ALL of the surviving, but not thriving Little Chef restaurants. Travelling at maximum speeds of 65 miles per hour, in our beloved bright red 1986 Bedford Rascal mini-van, we captured the final forty one on camera. This is a presentation of our trip, a photographic display of our findings and a moment for reflection. A chance for us all to bid any final farewells to a 60 year old slice of British history.
We began our trip at Newcastle’s A1 branch, guided by the lucky omen of a double yolker inside Owen’s Olympic breakfast. We finished our trip at the A11 Norwich Branch on the 17th December 2017, where we released a rather pathetic balloon straight into a radio mast and hand delivered the staff a double-layered box of Cadbury’s Milk Tray. It wasn’t a romantic ending…
It just didn’t feel right to end it like this… The doors for the final Little Chef’s closed on the 31st January 2018 without a peep of press or praise. We want this rectified! The public need to be given the chance to say goodbye. If Princess Diana’s funeral can be broadcast globally, then so can Little Chef. This is the unofficial funeral for every Little Chef!
Join us at The Wardrobe Theatre to say “Goodbye!” together. Let us celebrate together the life of every Little Chef restaurant up and down the country. Let us not remember this chubby little chef as decripid brown shacks on the edge of round a-bouts but let us acknowledge the success of one mans humble beginnings in the 50’s. At this final farewell we will celebrate the triumph of Little Chef Ltd. in 1999 when 439 red and white eateries draped our A-Roads, forcing every child to put down their Game Boy and sit up straight to a full cooked breakfast in the afternoon.
We have 41 Kodak slides to take you through. They’re not all pretty, but they paint a picture of what happens in Charlie’s final years; time moves on, cars get faster, motorways become greater and one restaurant continues to feed the nation a large dollop of rigid nostalgia, alongside the same old corrugated lollies.
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