If you’ve just emerged from the depths of Preston railway station and are desperately looking for scabby canines to bite into, then have a beak at this place. It’s right at the start of Fishergate (the main drag) as you head into town so you can, like me, have a five-stop (five-scoff) strategy. I wonder why I’ve put on weight recently! 😉

The cafe signage font is employed seemingly to invoke a sort of Ben and Jerry’s vibe (like those back-street bars in Soho, hinting there’s sort of cream available indoors!) and is flanked by additional text signalling ‘Great Grub’ and ‘Proper Coffee’. We’ll be the judge of that though!

Inside is quite arresting being one of the more vivid coffee shops I’ve been to for a while; a melange of blues, pinks and greens and a lot of yellow including pukey coloured steel girders! Fine, but I don’t think I’d want to be in there if I was suffering from sea-sickness. It’s one of a chain of gaffs in the North-West and it’s located opposite a dull little shopping centre so the colour is an antidote to the drab and depressing corridors containing TJ Hughes and broken massage chairs.

It was early and a bit graveyardy but I camped down at the back (I am Pinocchio nosey) so I could folk watch if anyone arrived. After ten minutes, a few punters started filing in, maybe cos they’d heard I was in there! 😉

The only word I read of the menu outside was ‘bagels‘ so, naturally, I was tractor-beamed in through the door before I could get to read any more. Inside though, a corkboard behind a brightly lit menu teased varied specials formed of seasonal bakes of cakey temptation. Yeah, they also do desserts, shakes, burgers ,sarnies and sos rolls but I ordered Posh Beans on Toast and it sort of is; a long sourdough strip resembling a mini aircraft carrier with homemade beans looking like tiny F15s. I think I need to stop sniffing Vim. It was a bit spicy but pretty tasty once I’d cleared all the green leafy shite (or hedgerow as I call it). I chugged a White Americano too which was not bad but wasn’t exactly doing cartwheels down the road. Maybe the sign should say ‘Meh Coffee’.

Spilling out of the speakers was a bit of dancey music but it wasn’t exactly The Hitman And Her in there and it soon switched to more chillaxy stuff at a decent vol. There was plenty of light from large lamps on the metal strips overhead (useful if performing an autopsy or if you’re planning to do a bit of dentistry as a side hustle) and lots of room to work or have meetings as it’s quite a big space. There was a cleanish and accessible toilets and the wifi worked fine but you had to enter the usual bullshit name and complete a small survey before getting on-line. The floors are wooden boarded but so are parts of the walls but in various colours which was eye-catching. The furniture was mixed with tables of various sizes and oaky shades and metal chairs outside (not the worst I’ve seen) to wooden ones inside along with comfy sofas. There are decent upholstered chairs so there’s even somewhere to sit for fussy sods like me and the back wall is padded so when you’re sat you don’t feel you’re being constantly pounded by a piece of 4×2.

A gaggle of gargantuan mothers arrived and slumped around the table in front of me (plus one thin beardy on the sniff for an extramarital blobby shag no doubt, probably a househusband spending his days polishing his python in between resentfully loading the washing machine and dishwasher whilst feeling emasculated) holding babies that were so young, their umbilical cords were probably still in the bin of the hospital.

I digged the bright and interesting decor especially when you are used to more darker palette they use in places like Cafe Nero. After a while though, my brain realised how much yellow was visible in parts of this joint and at times I felt I was in the gift shop at Norwich City Football Club.

Another woman arrived to join the globulous group. Now, five out of eight of the ladies were morbidly obese, but were happy that the double doors opened to allow them access to the premises. For some very odd reason that flew in the face of the Laws of Nature, none of their babies made a noise. I looked around for Jesus to explain this miracle but He, of beard, was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was there but only in our hearts.

As I finished scoffing and quaffing (I had a thirst on and ordered another WA), I earwigged the mother’s conversation and the subjects being discussed were: weening, nappies, sleep, rubber gloves (don’t get excited), varicose veins and pads of some sort (probably not car brake pads).

I noticed that the slightly oldest sprog, now redder than a Communist tomato, started repeating ‘Bumblebee’ over and over for what seemed for about three days. It was like she’d just learned the word and was enamoured with the sound of it. I decided it was quite cute and resisted the temptation of dipping her, head-first, into the ice-cream machine.

I wondered if this was the baby’s first words rather than ‘Mama’ or ‘Dada’. My mum told me that my first word was ‘Bounty’ so it’s perfectly feasible.

As I got up to leave, I saw the mother feed something from a spoon to Bumblebee Baby from a pot in her coat. After swallowing, BB was immediately silent. What do they give babies in Lancashire to quiet them down? Temazepam Hotpot? Get it on the menu!

Verdict: 4/5

Good: Colourful and different, varied menu, wifi, food

Bad: You might need shades.