Back in 1991, a company had the balls to dream. River Rooster dreamed that they could deliver fresh chicken & chips to communities that were surviving off the fat of the petrol station Bain Marie: Margaret River, Busso and other disgusting hell holes.
In 2003, the owners realised their cheeky attempt to leech off the Red Rooster brand-behemoth was falling shorter than a stoned surfer in Yallingup swell. Thus, they asked a nation (a small catchment area of an insignificant state).
The Douth community roared: CHOOKS FRESH n TASTY! You can still hear the advert in your mind, tayyyyy-steeeeeyyyyy. Hell, you can still feel those hot chips in your mouth, you can still feel the convenience of on-the-street service in your emotionally depleted heart.
Chooks wasn’t just a competitor to the unholy trinity of heart disease, Chicken Treat, KFC & Red Rooster, it was a chicken store that was there for you. A chicken store that had the cojones to say, “we don’t need a fancy restaurant, just give us a fryer, a street and a god damn line of disgusting human beings”.
All their food was al dente, but those chips. Chips which set the standard: salty enough to dehydrate your balls, but tasty enough to re-drown them in your own fucking cum. Can you get that at KFC? Motherfucker.
It wasn’t long until Perth embraced Chooks and school students, unemployed fucks & tradies were suckling upon the greasy tit of their moderate empire. It was a vibe.
Of course, some stars burn too bright, and Chooks was one of them. Unable to compete with the fast-paced world of convenient chicken, they sadly disappeared in 2010.
Not even a serial killing fisherman at a mermaid brothel would make us feel more gutted. It was a kick to the dick of the community appetite, and one we hanker for many years later.
Some say you can still go down to Freo, and if you look with the same grease soaked eyes, you can see that very high-watermark on the footpath where the culinary wave of Perth broke and gently rolled back.
Vale Chooks x
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