Naked bums welcome in this restaurant

There I was innocently perusing the internet when I read a story that was so horrifying I nearly choked on my chocolate roll. Don’t worry, I didn’t. The story in question was about naked bums on seats and we are not talking on seats in the privacy of your own home! No, we are talking about naked bums on seats in a restaurant. Yes, a naked restaurant has only gone and opened up in London. Now my first thoughts were -

 

1. Oh my good grief who are the owners of this restaurant. Cue frantic googling and then relief when I realised that it was not my mum and dad. Regular readers of my blog will realise they do have a fondness for getting naked!
2. My second thought was to make a mental note to never, ever, tell my mum and dad about this restaurant for the above reason.

 

 

Purely for blog research I decided to read up some more about this restaurant. I must stress that this was purely for research, I have no desire to get naked in a restaurant or visit a naked restaurant - honest. I never want to set foot in a restaurant that has had hairy buttocks gracing seats. The restaurant did not sell itself to me. It described the restaurant as serving,

 

” wood flame meals”

 

Two words in that sentence are so wrong when you are dealing with a naked restaurant. I am going to avoid the first one - ‘wood’ and the oh so obvious innuendo. Instead let’s focus on the second word - ‘flame’. That’s right flames. Real. Life. HOT. Flames. Surely, flames are never a good thing when it comes to general nakedness and swinging chipolatas. But then they go onto say that they have,

 

“a canopy of candlelights”

 

Yep, not a few but a whole canopy. Does that not spell danger or maybe toasty todger? Sizzling sausage? Ok, I will stop. Surely, no one will want to eat in this restaurant, right? Wrong, the restaurant has a waiting list of 30,000 people. That’s right, there are 30,000 naked bums waiting to eat in this restaurant. The mind boggles.

 

Perhaps it’s me, perhaps I am being all prudish about it. I will admit that when I was a lot younger, I suddenly became very interested in cookery shows. I could cite my GCSE in Home Economics class but really it was the title of said cookery programme - The Naked Chef. Sadly, Jamie was not naked but still it was quite a good a cookery show. A show that seemed to involve him whizzing down the banisters of his stairs on his fully clothed bum. However, I don’t think I am being prudish by not wanting to eat in a restaurant in the buff. I wouldn’t want to eat in the nude because it is not practical. What would they serve? Spaghetti? Soup? What about the potential for spillage? Think about the burns you could get from spilling your hot coffee *shudders*.

 

 

 

The whole naked restaurant has got me thinking that perhaps the restaurant world is starting to go a little crazy. We have had dining in the dark which again screams potential for disaster,

 

“Oh sorry, I thought I was reaching for the pepper not your……”

 

Then there was the cereal shop where hipsters could go and eat a bowl of Frosties and pay around £6 for the pleasure of it. Surely, a restaurant shouldn’t be gimmicky. Apparently, the reason that this restaurant is proving such a success is because a lot of people eat naked at home. Do they? Who are these people? What are they eating? I can safely say that I have never in my whole life eaten naked. Quite frankly when I am eating my muffins I do not want to be distracted by my muffin top. No, in my household there is a strictly clothed policy; all muffin-tops, baps and sausages need to be covered up.

 

Mum, Dad are you listening? When we eat we keep it covered up 😉

 

*I apologise for all poor food based puns that were used in this article. I would also like to add that this is not meant to offend naturists. This post was merely me questioning the naked restaurant and whether I would want to eat there. Regular readers of my blog will realise that I struggle with nudity! However, I am full of admiration for people who feel comfortable naked and I wish that I had their confidence. In the words of my mum I am a ‘prude’.*