Archive for August, 2007

Why does the high street treat me like a total asshole? If I want insurance, I search online for the best deal. If want two of something I’ll buy two. But the high street makes an assumption that I am a golden, fur lined tosser just waiting to be told how to consume.

Why the dreary outpouring? I’ve just been to post a letter, buy a sandwich and pay in a cheque. I left with the cheque, the letter and a credit card yet I’ve arrived home with a carrier bag full to the neck with crap. Marketing shit that I don’t even want to waste the energy of my shredder on. Here’s how it went:

1. Paying in cheque – “thankyou Mr ploop and may I ask, have you had your account reviewed with us recently? A quick look at the screen here tells me you could be on our premier banking scheme.” Oh great, you want to charge me £20 a month so you can add my name to a ’special database’ that will offer me cheap insurance on a daily basis …

2. Buying a stamp for the letter – “thankyou – and while you are here could I interest you in travel insurance (kids go free) or our new credit card”

3. Buying my sandwich – “thankyou, would you like a latte or smoothie to go with that? No? Ok, how about a pastry at half price”

Forgive me – but I just wanted to make three simple transactions and I got badgered and rodgered at every goddam step.

I do, however, feel sorry for the young chap who then collared me to join the NSPCC for just £25/month. Maybe a ‘no thankyou’ would have been better than burying my fountain pen in his fucking neck.

Chateau Musar 2002, Lebanon.

You’re feeling cheeky, rock ‘n’ roll, missing your youth a little bit yet enjoying a little more money. You pop on ‘Sympathy for the Devil’ by the Stones and strut down to your cellar howling out ‘Whooo … whooo’. There’s only one wine that will fit this mood, only one wine that will deal with this song – Chateau Musar 2002.

It’s showing a little age – so there’s a little leather on the nose along with an exotic and truly unique comination on ripe red fruits, blackberries and something that reminds me of a certain incense stick my ex girlfriend would burn when my luck was in. In the mouth it’s both sweet, savoury and something hovering on sour – I love it. Swill it round the mouth, smooth along to a great Stones tune and plow on out for an evening once you’ve nailed a couple of glasses.

It’s odd, it’s from Lebanon for heaven’s sake, and is truly unique. Like Sympathy for the Devil it taps its own tune – unlike the Stones though … it does get better with age.