The first time we went to Micky’s, we arrived from the Army & Navy - an excellent red-carpeted boozer of a pub across the road - ten minutes too late. The fryers were gleaming, the little saveloy windows were empty, and there wasn’t a Pukka Pie in sight. But on top of the counter was a plump leftovers package. Compliments of the chippy. Haddock, fried chicken, and chips: some fat, some crispy, some soggy. All perfect. The fresh batch we came back for the next day was even better. The moral? You can’t put a price on a local chip shop as good as Micky’s.