Dumfries: Snatching a Defeatburger from the Jaws of Victory

...except it wasn't.
We parked up by the river in sunny Dumfries, I donned my cheery Irn Bru-coloured Queens Park away shirt to match Stu, and we wandered up the hill to the town centre. We were detained briefly by a drunken Partick Thistle fan who queried our choice of shirts while staggering on the cobbles, but soon made our way triumphantly to the Loreburne Shopping Centre.
In we marched, fielding yet more stares of Scottish football tribalism, and headed to our goal, minds full of the thought of burgers and chips on true Wimpy plates.
But as we approached, the sight of plastic shutters sank our hopes like a chaffinch divebombing a canoe.
It looked like a jolly nice Wimpy, with what seemed to be a seating hall out the back. But it was, undeniably, closed, when on a busy Sunday afternoon. So zero from both of us.
So had we completed our quest? Well, I think so. After all, we'd made it to the Wimpy, which is the main thing. And you wouldn't send us back to Dumfries. Surely?