One of the only two Hooters in the UK - this is what I thought

But you may be surprised to learn that there is a Hooters restaurant here in the UK (now two, in fact, with a new outlet recently opening in Liverpool).

It raises many questions. Is it seedy? Tacky? Misogynistic? All of the above?

While in Nottingham for a burlesque show, myself and two female friends agreed that we should find out for ourselves.

On arrival in the car park, you are in no doubt that you are in the right place.

The distinctive orange Hooters branding is unmistakable.

Being greeted at the door next to the merch stand, we were shown to a table near the open kitchen.

It's very brightly lit, with ever space taken with a piece of American sporting memorabilia that meant nothing to any of us. But, you know, go sports!

With the American sports decor, and being one of the only US "breasteraunts" to make it to the UK, we felt initially felt like fishes in unfamiliar water.

Most of the customers appeared to be adult males. However, there were a few couples, mixed-groups, and at least one child.

Other than the servers being in tight uniforms and falling into a narrow demographic, there wasn't really much difference to other restaurants.

The servers were friendly, but no boundaries were crossed.

We heard them singing happy birthday to customers (amazing how many men had birthdays on the day were were there) and they were happy to pose for a photo with us.

Our server, told us she really enjoyed working there having left an office job to become a Hooters girl.

She joked that she would have to retire soon, which perhaps hinted at an unspoken and uncomfortable truth about Hooters hiring policies, but I can't be sure.

With a show to get to we asked what could be delivered to our table fastest, which our waitress was happy to help us with.

For my vegan friends, the only option was curly fries, which our server explained were cooked in a separate fryer to anything non-plant-based.

I went for the boneless wings. The waitress offered some advice, telling me that the honey chipolte sauce was milder than some of the other sauces despite boasting two flame emojis to their one. So chipolte honey it was, which coincidently I am also considering as my drag name.

My companions ordered lemonades, while I went for the Owl on the Beach cocktail (vodka, peach schnapps, orange and cranberry juice).

The bartender made two cocktails by mistake, both of which were brought to out table, so we were already winning!

The fries and the wings were really good. They felt authentically American, and of a better quality that you would get from most of the other fast food franchises.

However, I can't help feeling that saying you go to Hooters for the food is like saying you read Playboy for the articles.

I also can't help feeling that the previous sentence is a dated reference, which gets to the nub of my feelings about Hooters.

Whichever side of the misogyny versus empowerment argument you favour, Hooters does seem like a place out of time.

Arguably it had its place in the era of lad mags, but now seems like a relic from the 1990s.

That said, the number of Hooters has doubled in recent years (to two) and there are or have been plans for new restaurants in Salford and Newcastle.

Maybe in this post-irony world of ours there is a place for Hooters.

Now all that remains is for me to sneak this expenses claim past my boss.