On first impression, and by day, Billy Bunter’s Snack Bar looks like it has been closed for several years. It is housed in a hut on the Mile End Road and I walked past several times before noticing the wisp of smoke emerging from a tottering little chimney flue. The hut is made of wood and the boards are painted white, while the whole structure is precariously topped with a large sign. On it ‘Billy Bunters’ is written in blue and ‘SNACK BAR OPEN 24-7’ is written in red, next to a picture of a steaming cup of coffee. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that not only is Billy Bunter’s still open, it never closes.

What you must understand when you walk past what looks like a derelict shed, is that Billy Bunter’s is not for you or I, it is not for perambulators. By day, there are few signs of life. The hut has turned its back to the street and has no time for the Tesco Metro that lurks behind it. Sports Direct is also of no interest. The little window from which customers are served faces not back onto the pavement, not back into our mortal realm, but outwards, outwards over the timeless expanses of the A11. And sure enough, who should I see parked outside her, late that night, lined up in the glow? Taxis. The London cabbie, come to refuel.

They will serve you, even if you don’t have a taxi, but tread softly – they have no time for your ironic moustache. We’re not in Dalston anymore. Creep closer; examine the menu. You will find options like ‘The Gutbuster’ for £3.80, or ‘The Breakfast Box’ at £4.25. That’s right, ‘The Gutbuster’ isn’t even the biggest option. Sometimes a busted gut isn’t enough. Think about that.

I approached cautiously; the local kebab shops and fried chicken joints had long since closed, but Billy Bunter’s grimy lights shone like a beacon in front of me. The neon sign that once said ‘Open’ now only says ‘Ope-’, but to me this was no circuitry problem. That ‘‘ope’ had dropped an ‘H’, not an ‘N’; it was a cockney ‘Hope’. I felt good. I had a cheeseburger. I took a bite. Instantly I found myself at the other end of the A11 – transported by the magic of Bunter’s straight back to my childhood. Back to watching Cambridge United on the terraces of the Abbey Stadium and eating the exact same burger, among the exact same burly, slightly intimidating men. It was very intense.

I was still reeling when one of these silent men appeared next to me and said to the window, ‘Bill, I’ve got no change – I’m sorry.’ The face behind the glass, framed with grey hair and spectacles, sighed, but nonetheless made the man a cup of tea. I thought, then, that he might be the actual Billy Bunter. Mr Bunter, still there today, hard at work in his hut. He must have noticed me staring because he stared back, suspiciously. He looked a bit like Samuel Beckett, albeit after a couple of gutbusters.

‘Any ketchup?’ I said, and felt like a fool.

Tags: bar, billy, bunter's, gutbuster, London, mile end, snack, taxi