Post Leadmill McDonald’s is a spiritual ritual
I’m lovin’ it
You’ve belted it out to Jamie T and shimmied nonstop to the likes of Destiny’s Child and Shakira, yet you were never really in Leadmill for its two rooms of classics or the legendary photo booth antics.
It was the gravitational pull of something far greater: there’s no question about it, a post-Leadmill Maccers trip has been your true calling all week. Seduced by visions of the saver menu, this event has become a natural part of your Friday night out ritual.
Both Broomhill Friery and Balti King have long shone bright as Sheffield’s takeaway staples, but the beauty of the Leadmill Mcdonald’s routine cannot be overlooked.
The music and your mission to avoid 33 year old Russell with his hair trapped in 1991 are both over. Disheveled and hungry, the hunt begins. For some it is one big jagerbomb fuelled gallivant, but for others it can prove a much tougher task.
The levels of longing for a 99p chicken mayo are known to result in injury for the fallen fast food few. Nevertheless, you must push through, the bright yellow arches of your destination are in sight and this is not a social event to miss.
Arriving at the haven of crispy coated goodness, this is a place far ahead of its competitors. A true opportunity to mingle with like-minded burger driven masses and you know it. Top Taste and Pizza Roma are just not up to scratch.
Reminded of its status by the bouncers at the door, you’re in and the time to order is here. This is a crucial stage and one not to be screwed up.
The heavy joke of a queue looks reminiscent of some sort of hunter-gatherer TV documentary, but the intense craving is pushing you through. Having spent the last ten minutes scraping her collection of coppers together, your flatmate is in pursuit of a hash brown.
The rest of the vodka-induced pack opt for the standard cheeseburger. Emotions have hit, everyone looks a state and the hangover is fast approaching.
Your tray is piled high and what a sensational sight it is. Despite the horror of those eating off each other’s faces in the middle queue and the outcasts devouring a Filet-O-Fish in your path, you’re complete with your chicken nugget sharebox for one. Sweet and sour sauce to dip, that cloud nine feeling has arrived.
Exiting the after party of happy meals and strawberry milkshakes, you leave safe in the knowledge that next week’s Leadmill installment will bring you another taste of gourmet dining for your drunken munchies. We can all go for gaga for the club’s Friday night offering, but there’s no denying Leadmill is just a pitstop to the delights of Mcdonald’s.