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America. Land of the free. I'm in Florida, the sunshine state. Home to Disney, NASA and alligators. I'm driving along the huge 8 lane highway that is Interstate 4. While approaching exit 64 I catch it out of the corner of my eye. There, shimmering in the heat like an oasis of tackiness and saturated fat a bright orange sign shouts 'Hooters'. Unable to resist, I pilot my ridiculously large hired 4x4 to the car park.

For the uninitiated, Hooters is a burgers 'n' ribs restaurant with a difference. It is as politically incorrect as you can get. Waitresses, sporting bright orange hot pants and white tank tops, serving you with enthusiasm that would make your momma proud.