"In memoriam of Eagle Boys Pizza: we will miss you."

In devastating news for anyone who grew up on Eagle Boys pizza, the company has been bought out by Pizza Hut and nothing will ever be the same.

That hot pink logo will no longer beckon through the windscreen, ‘I’m warm and delicious and not good for you at all’. And the cheesy, tasty goodness of too much topping will never again hang between our front teeth or cling to the so-soggy-it’s-almost-transparent cardboard box.

Eagle Boys, why were you so cheesy?

As Australia bids farewell to the pizza chain of our childhoods, these are the things we will so sorely miss:

The way you were unashamedly, forever and always, a little bit “uncool”. You didn’t have the gourmet, wood-fired options, made from gluten-free crust and homemade tomato sauce, lovingly caressed onto the dough by real Italian nonnas. No, you were the classic, the original — The Barbeque Chicken and the Bacon Mega Supreme.

(I remember when you changed your logo from the wobbly ’90s-style capital letters to the clean, aesthetically-pleasing lower-case version. That, I fear, was the beginning of your demise.)

You were always on time. Except once, when I was in primary school and it was a class lunch and we were so excited and you didn't arrive until 4pm. That was okay, though, because you were Eagle Boys and your delivery boy let a horde of 10-year-old children accost him at the door.

You were known to have the best barbecue sauce of any pizza outlet in the country. No one will ever take that title from you.

We will miss the 'underground-ness' of you. You were never one of the "big four" (you're about to become one). When I talk to people who grew up in Sydney about you, they look at me strangely.

You might not have made it in the big smoke, but you were the Friday night special for kids in rural Australia — or Gold Coast kids like me. The city dwellers will never know the thrill that is The Bumper with Double Rich Tomato, and that is their loss.

The mind-blowing variety of your menu (there was Hawaiian and there was Chicken Hawiian) will always remain unsurpassed. The options upon slightly-similar-but-not-the-same-options meant my brother and I could actually agree on a flavour. We wouldn't be banished to our rooms for throwing things at each other, which is usually what happened in the excitement and disagreement of ordering any form of take out.

Finally, your deliciousness; your extreme, unapologetic cheesiness; and the sheer volume of your toppings, meant my parents, even in the strictest of moods, would, on occasions, be unable to resist. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

Rest in peace, Eagle Boys.

I wish you a blissful eternity full of cheese and bacon and dripping cardboard boxes. You will be sorely, and very hungrily, missed.