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The best restaurants serving Fast food food in North West
1.230 Restaurants on GastroRanking
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942 Opinions in 2 websites
The young man who served us on Saturday bank holiday weekend was tremendous. We ordered milkshakes for 4 kids and he was so patient as they made the most random and disgusting orders ever! When I needed the last shake to be gluten free, he cleaned down everything to reduce the risk of cross contamination and did his best for us. Absolute best service ever and I would recommend it to anyone!

23223 Opinions in 4 websites
if i could i would rate this 0 but thats not possible first and foremost they scammed the life out of me when i asked for my bigmac to be “plain with JUST cheese” and they give an abomination with no cheese so just a plain big mac idk bout u but i dont like dry burgers so whats going on?

12839 Opinions in 4 websites
Sometimes I wonder what Grimace himself would make of McDonald's Stretford. Take a trip down Chester Road and upon passing Stretford Mall, you'll feel the gravitational pull of the ever-familiar golden arches, their glow as bright as a star set for supernova. A brilliant lie, sold to us by the soulless. Grimace was colourful, too—perhaps even gaudy. He was big and round and kind of silly, but somewhere in his googly eyes was a deep tenderness, an unwavering awareness of the responsibility he held to mankind as a bulbous purple vassal of its largest fast food retailer. McDonald's Stretford is an affront to Grimace's memory. It is receiving the wrong burger. It is tucking in to the bitter disappoint of stone cold fries. It is painfully slow service when you're in a rush. It is a knife through Grimace's swollen, plum-shaded heart. Now, as McDonald's tries desperately to salvage its already rotten reputation, it refuses to let our smooth-headed lavender angel rest, instead offering us his blood in the form of a crude, berry-flavoured milkshake. Welcome to a world where churches might provide apple and blackcurrant squash at holy communion—a world symbolic of everything wrong with modern McDonald's. The Stretford branch wears its wounds proudly, choosing to let them fester and decay, polluting every aspect of its service from quality of food to waiting times. I recently placed an order for delivery and found one of my burgers (the key component in a meal costing over £10) to be missing. Grimace wept. I've been sitting on these thoughts for a while. Heavy is the cross. I believe we owe it to those no longer here—to the fallen heroes, to the Grimaces of the world—to stand up and demand a return to a McDonald's that cares. Even writing this, I fear for my safety. Who knows when Ronald and his mob of brightly-coloured thugs might come knocking. They already silenced Grimace. Who next?