I wish to make an announcement. I am 64 years old and have never set foot in a McDonalds. Not even to take a McShit. I was, however, when a student in London in the late 60s/early 70s, very appreciative of the existence of an all-night Wimpy on Gloucester Road. To me, in a student B&B in Earl's Court with no cooking facilities, this was nirvana. The imbibition of eight pints of Tartan Keg did tend to make one peckish (though, at just over 2% ABV, not exactly pissed), and a Wimpy cheeseburger and chips was eminently affordable. And especially delicious at three in the morning. Naturally, this meant missing chemistry the next day, but I didn't want to be there anyway, and neither did the chemistry lecturers. There was nothing not to like, and, as you can see, I survived the Wimpys.
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