Here’s a confession. I don’t like McDonald’s and never really have.

Quite why the people of the world are so obsessed with the fast-food giant does, therefore, leave me a little bewildered.

Yet branches of the place spring up across this fine county of ours at a frankly ludicrous pace. I am, it appears, alone in my apathy towards the brand.

It all rather begs the question of just how many McDonald’s restaurants one county needs. Will it only stop when every town and village has one?

I’m not going to pretend I’ve never enjoyed the occasional meal there back in the day – but my overriding memory of eating its food is that after-taste which seems to cling to your mouth and gut for the following 24 hours.

When I was younger, McDonald’s was first emerging in Kent – a brightly coloured slice of the American franchise dream at its most garish.

It offered toys, it had a weird clown promoting it, and offered food scientifically designed to be more-ish. And, when you placed an order, it served it up in a matter of moments. (Unless, of course, you’ve ever tried to order a Fillet o’ Fish, in which case you’re in for a wait). There’s no denying it has the formula for success down to a fine art.

It was exciting back in the day and we all flocked to it.

The previous ‘burger king’ in Kent had been Wimpy. But we collectively turned our back on the knives, forks and plates it served our food up on and went for the wrappers and boxes of the Golden Arches. We didn’t know about environmental damage back then. A shame, in retrospect.

Yes, the McDonald’s chips – sorry, fries – are tasty and the Big Mac (which seemed so much bigger when I was younger) was nice – especially those scrummy little gherkins.

But, there came a point, many decades ago, where the identical taste of its food – regardless of where you had a Big Mac (and I know that’s the whole point) - and the ludicrous calorie count of their big hitters (which ended a brief fascination I had with their chocolate milkshakes) became too much.

I bid McDonald’s goodbye.

There are, I would argue, so many options today that reverting back to a MaccyD’s seems regressive somehow. Like choosing a Rich Tea biscuit when chocolate Hob Nobs are on the table. We may all be creatures of comfort, but surely variety is the spice of life?

Yet the fast-food chain’s desire to become omnipresent in the county shows no sign of slowing - nor, for that matter, our appetite for the food it serves.

At least the trail of branded litter which stretches from the roadside and into our town centres can ensure those in need of their fix can easily find one.