FROM 2009: I was taking a spin down Newmarket Road in the suburb of Windsor on the weekend when I clocked all the gorgeous vintage cars parked outside Harry’s Diner. This restaurant is reminiscent of ‘Arnold’s’ from ‘Happy Days’ and as to be expected, is full retroheads admiring each other’s Chevrolets and Cadillacs. My friend tells me the place does a roaring trade. As far as themed restaurants go, Australia tends toward American concepts like the Lone Star Steakhouse and Hard Rock Café. Well I’d like to put forth a few ideas of my own. The Orifice Kitchen: Self-serve at its finest. Patrons select a chipped and filthy ‘decaf is the anti-Christ’ mug from the overflowing sink and ferret through cupboards and drawers to find a teabag and a fork. All tea comes with complimentary sugar laced with instant coffee granules and trim milk well past its use-by date. Today’s specials are complimentary birthday cheesecake and something growing spores in a Tupperware container labeled ‘this is mine-piss off’. The walls are covered with graffitied memos from the boss’ PA asking ‘would you leave your own kitchen looking like this?’ blu-tacked above the water purifier. Patrons that take advantage of BYO should not complain when their Snickers bar and six pack of Red Oak disappears. This restaurant is, after all, a shining beacon of modern communal living. Make sure you leave your crusty crockery and cutlery for someone else to clean up in The Orifice Kitchen. The Stadium Soirée: An establishment for the whole family. The car park is always full and conveniently located ten kilometres in the other direction and the toilets, merely a mirage in the desert. All the essential food groups are represented: tepid chips, microwaved pies scalding hot on the outside and frozen in the middle and watered down beer (that inevitably runs out so don’t forget to BYO). Anticipate your hunger by three hours and stand in a cue while you crane your neck to view the impossibly placed monitors. Hear the roar of the crowd die down as you make your way back to your seat only to find foreigners with hygiene problems have taken up residence. Blanche at the DNA and tomato sauce left by way of evidence. Here’s your chance to dine alfresco, no matter what the weather, and rub shoulders with potty-mouthed yobbos who swear and threaten murder in front of their children. Don’t forget to blue with our security guards before you leave at The Stadium Soirée. The Blue Rinse Café: Embroidered table cloths and napkins smelling of mothballs, lazy Susans and crocheted teapot cosies set the scene at The Blue Rinse Café. So authentic, it’s just like being at your Gran’s. You really haven’t experienced bland until you’ve eaten at The Blue Rinse Café. Our menu offers Toad in a Hole, Tuna Mornay, Corned Beef with White Sauce and None Of That Foreign Muck. Make a selection from our sweets trolley comprising of Pink Junket, Prunes and Custard, Baked Sago with Jelly and Stewed Rhubarb, or just sit in front of the Days of Our Lives with a tray and let our surly staff cater to your every whinge. Velvet slippers and gaping brunch coats are considered more than acceptable attire here at The Blue Rinse Café. The Blue Collar Brassiere: Sit on a fold out stool or balance on the scaffolding. It’s your choice at The Blue Collar Brassiere. Your Kentucky Fried Chicken, mashed potato and gravy and Pepsi will be personally delivered by an idiot apprentice who couldn’t even bang in a nail straight. Openly ogle and wolf whistle our waitresses and don’t forget to trample mud all over the cream carpet as you leave. Cattle and Pig dogs are welcome here at The Blue Collar Brassiere. Patrons please note: we are closed when it’s too wet, too hot, too cold, either side of a long weekend or when the Holden Ute is playing up.