I hate to waffle on, but I simply have to tell you about Sir Wafflelot, a happy-go-lucky anthropomorphic waffle who presides over the legendary Waffle Spot restaurant in San Diego.

I love his chubby little cheeks and eyes full of yearning and wonder. Ooh, what a snack!

Wearing his crown at a roguish tilt, Sir Wafflelot is warm, sweet and just a little bit sticky – much like the deliciously crispy treat he celebrates. He’s drenched in retro charm with a drizzle of whimsy, and what could be batter than that?

Disturbingly, however, Sir Wafflelot is wielding a fork and a contented smile, which suggests he’s planning to – or worse yet, already has – eaten one or more of his fellow waffles.

Oh well, I can forgive a little light cannibalism when the perpetrator is this dadgum cute!

The kind sir points the way towards food fit for a king. The Waffle Spot, is break-fast becoming the city’s favourite restaurant.

Churros, chocolate chip pancakes, burritos, vegetable casseroles, fried chicken, French toast topped with cream cheese and strawberries. You can even have a mimosa or seven to celebrate meeting the famous Sir Wafflelot.

(Don’t hold back – you can always slip into a food coma in the adjoining motel if breakfast leaves you feeling a bit tired and emotional).

But you can’t go past the sumptuous – and really quite confronting – waffle burger, with lashings of egg, cheese and bacon squished between two waffles. Sky-high cholesterol and late-onset diabetes are a small price to pay to eat a mountain of food in front of a statue of a really big waffle.

Even after the restaurant closes, the fun doesn’t stop, because Sir Wafflelot is accessible 24 hours. He really is the definition of all-day breakfast!

Welcome to WaffleMania!

The sun was shining when Bigella, Little Peter Poppins and myself stopped by The Waffle Spot. Sadly, however, a latino tough guy in Armani loafers and a freshly-pressed Hugo Boss shirt was loitering around in front of Sir Wafflelot.

I assumed the stylish thug would move on when we sidled up for a photo. But he just stood there, hands in pockets, equal parts handsome and menacing.

“Let’s just go and get our breakfast, Bigs,” begged Bigella. “A photo with Sir Wafflelot isn’t worth risking our lives for. A poorly-framed snap from the corner of the car park is good enough.”
“Look, Bigella,” I snorted. “Good enough is never good enough when it comes to Big Things.”

I don’t normally approach swarthy bad boys in motel parking lots, but the readers were counting on me, so I waffled on over to the feisty photobomber.

“Hola, papi,” I chirped, holding out my hand. “The inimitable Bigs Bardot.”
“Juan Carlos,” he sniffed, then went back to just standing there.
“I guess you’re here for the chilaquilles and huevos rancheros.”
“No, I’m just waiting for someone.”

It seems I’d found myself in a sticky syrup-tuation.

“Look, Juan,” I said tactfully. “I run the world’s leading website dedicated to Big Things. Land of the Bigs – I’m sure you’ve heard of it. I’d love to get a photo with that wonderful waffle. Can I ask you to move?”
“You can ask,” he sneered, “but I’m not going to move. Not for you, not for no-one.”

I contemplated correcting his grammar, but decided it would do griddle to improve the situation.

“You seem waffle-ly anxious, Juan,” I burbled. “Is it because Sir Lancelot – for whom Sir Wafflelot is so obviously named – was a knight, not a king, and therefore never wore a crown?”
“Yes, I do find that vaguely ludicrous,” the debonair delinquent shrugged. “But I’m still not gonna move. Not for you –”
“Not for no-one,” I sighed.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I seized Juan Carlos by his lapel and attempted to drag him away from Sir Wafflelot.

“No-Juan gets between Bigs Bardot and an oversized roadside waffle statue!” I cackled maniacally.

As Juan Carlos choked the life out of me, Bigella and Little Peter Poppins swaggered into The Waffle Spot and tucked into their succulent waffle meals. By the time I regained consciousness several hours later, the restaurant had closed. I never did get to try those Machaca Benedict waffles.

I guess I got my just desserts – teehee!