I'd rather have Ikea than Hooters

At a Hooters restaurant the owls and the dudes get an eyeful. Plus a beer and food.

If you have never been to a Hooters bar, let me describe it for you. You already know what the girls look like - they've all got knockers so big they're almost suffocating themselves, they've sprayed their beauty-pageant hair, and they're wearing the tiniest shorts. The room is smoky and smells like old beer. The bar is covered in those paper coasters that annoyingly stick to the bottom of your glass.

But it's the clientele we're interested in today. You know what they look like. They're straight out of those "people of Walmart" emails that do the rounds. In fact, they've probably come here straight after shopping for toilet paper at Walmart, and after dressing in a leopard print crop-top, ugg boots and purple tights with a hole in the crotch. Just a reminder: these are men we're talking about. These seedy, seedy men pretend to come here for a beer when really they're just storing up boob memories for later.

Now, after all that, you may actually be surprised to know I've lied. That's not at all what the clientele are like. Disclaimer: I've never been to Hooters so I'm judging this place entirely on its online footprint, and the only photos I can find are of girls with enormous jugs, more girls with enormous jugs and then girls with enormous jugs holding a baby.

Yes, a baby. Looks to me like the selfie runs the risk of losing the online popularity contest to the group photo of several sets of enormous mammaries and a single baby. Who knew? It's a family restaurant.

I'm not joking. Americans throw their kids' birthday parties at Hooters. So, all the moral outrage about Hooters invading our conservative and evidently Christian-minded country seems a little OTT, doesn't it? How did Rape Crisis get involved in commenting on Hooters?

Someone needs to lend this sister a hand because I struggle to see the link between exposed cleavage and certain rape.

I may be guilty of showing just a little cleavage when I'm in my bikini, but, despite this exhibition, I never walk from the beach to the icecream vendor worrying about imminent rape.

Yes, I hear you when you say Hooters objectifies women. It sure does. I also hear you when you say Hooters preys on the vulnerable women in our society. That could prove to be fair criticism. But so does prostitution and prostitution is legal in this country.

Hooters is a gimmick. It's a bit like Budweiser. It is something all-American you should try on your first wild trip to the US and never try again because it's a bit rubbish. It's a little disappointing that, of all the fun things we could import, this is next in line.

My mate Damian says he'd rather have Ikea. Same.

But letting Hooters into the country won't turn our daughters into whores. In fact, it's nice to know where all the dickhead boys will be on a Saturday night so our daughters can go to some other bar and acquaint themselves with more wholesome lads.

I won't be going to Hooters. (Except maybe just the one time for a look around.)

It all sounds a little shifty and it's probably going to draw a shifty crowd but, mostly, it's that I just don't want to spend my Saturday night surrounded by babies waiting their turn to be snapped with big-boobed waitresses.