It's one of the most beloved brands in the world with a legion of fans.
Chicken lovers have flocked to KFC for decades, desperate for a taste of that secret mix of herbs and spices.
There are hundreds of stores all over the country - but not all have a particularly great reputation online.
The Derby Street branch of KFC is ranked as the worst restaurant in all of Bolton on Tripadvisor, but when the Manchester Evening News sent reporter Thomas Molloy last October, he felt you 'could do worse'.
Not too far from Greater Manchester is another branch of KFC that some diners have slammed as 'the worst in the UK' - in Northwich, Cheshire.
Our sister title Cheshire Live sent reporter Jonathan Blackburn out to the Chesterway restaurant to check it out for himself.
1.5 stars out of 5, 175 1-star reviews out of a total of 233. 'Worst KFC in UK', reads one. How bad can it be?
It's KFC, after all, the ubiquitous grease-mongers, serving fried chicken by the bucket load from here to Tokyo, where the KFC 'Bargain Bucket' has become something of a Christmas Day tradition.
And yet, horror stories abound about this particular Cheshire eatery.
The Northwich branch is infamous, I am told, and inspires eloquence and poetic patter from those who review it, arising in phrases such as 'disgusting vile dump' that serves 'fag ash chicken'.
Through the door, and the place is clean, modern, airy. Not the windowless basement abattoir I expected.
At the till, the cashier and I struggle to hear each other over the din of the kitchens. The vats hum loud and low under the clanking metal and beeps of ovens.
£4.99 for a vegan burger, it doesn't come with chips, and 'There's no lettuce, supply shortage... have we got a vegan burger... last one... your lucky day.'
£5.39 for a bag of chicken and a tiny bag of chips.
I turn to my sorry looking vegan burger, and choose the plant-based, lettuce-less substitute as my first victim.
And it's not all that bad really. Yes, some greenery would be nice, but this is certainly worth more than a one-star review, even if the price made me squirm and the lack of chips was befuddling.
Any optimism that the plucky wee Quorn burger fostered was extinguished by the pint of grease that was to follow, as I turned to the chicken.
A crack of the dry batter, and out gushes a torrent of liquid fat.
The chicken uses my mouth as some sort of fat fryer drip-tray as I struggle to contain the oil slick - the environmental disaster ready to pour onto my scarf.
With nowhere for the oil to go but down, I sup up and swallow. As I write, I can feel the arteries narrowing.
And worse, it was all for nothing. Tasteless, besides the salt, which quickly dried up any last drop of the small bottle of orange I washed the whole thing down with.
Though I will never return, I was surprised to find a clean, pleasant establishment, a thoroughly okay place. It's just a shame that they forgot to tell the food.
