Under the west cliff you'll find a number of neighbouring nosh-spots. There's The Conservatory on the corner, The Little Ice Cream Co. at 59 to 61, and, at 65, sporting the neon open sign, what Vic Reeves might describe as a 50s throwback of a cafe: please be seated for Joe Crowley's (see map).

Dorothy Lamour and Bob Hope gaze down at you from the walls, endorsing Coca Cola and the latest sleek sedans, while Al Martino croons away in the background. Screw up your eyes and you quarter-expect to see John T. and Uma T. in the next booth. What you actually get is Essex boy Joe, chockful of character and banter.

It'd be wrong to come to JC's without sampling a tipple from his pride & joy, a genuine soda fountain straight from a Preston Sturges film. Old Joe was trying to explain to us bright youngish things how it used to be before the ringpull can, and what exactly a malted shake might be. My cherry sensation needed a good stir and was foamtastic.

Hot food took a little while (Joe takes order, Joes cooks orders) but the BLT was well worth it, topped off with some squeezy ketchup. And while we merrily cleaned our Platters and raised our drinks from their Coasters, we played guess that recording artist. Doris Day? Guy Mitchell? I bet Wolfman Jack would know.

Plenty of puds on offer; go view the sample items rotating in the display cabinet. Alas we're out of time, so opted to takeaway a Sundae comprising whipped cream, choc ice cream, biscuit pieces, etc.. Ideal for a high speed journey back to work central.

If it was a car -- Plymouth Special De Luxe Coupe.
If they were passing by -- Mickey Rourke.