One thing we Brits do really, really well is take an American concept and screw it up. I've commented on our implementation of 'fast-food' before - basically, it isn't either (fast, or food. More sluggish and inedible.)
Today I present First-born's favourite place. An interpretation of a Tex-Mex diner with an amusing twist on a gun manufacturer for a name.
Upon entering the establishment you're greeted by a man wearing a cowboy hat, his face contorted into a rictus of welcome:
"Hi there! My name is (insert name here) - have you made a reservation?"
A reservation? For a bar? And why have you adopted that accent when I know you've lived down the road from my parents all your life?
The huge irony about the place is that its by far and away the most expensive place in town to eat. But they do give away plastic hats covered in glitter and put sparklers in your ice-cream, and until my preferred Japanese place does the same, this will remain First-born's eatery of choice.
Sigh.
