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Posts Tagged ‘Grain Whisky’

Brewdog have announced their intention to compete with Haig Club in the increasingly profitable market for embarrassingly shit young Grain Whisky. Jimmy Volt, one half of Brewdog’s CEO, said while receiving his MBE from the Queen for services to anti-establishmentism:

“Slowly but surely the collective public palate is forgetting the flavour of characterful, well made distillate that bears the unmistakeable fingerprints of its ingredients and production process. With Lone Milf distillery we aim to ride the crest of a new wave where every product is just another batch of neutral distillate bludgeoned to death by hyperactive oak. God I fucking love vanilla! Basically, we’ve pretty much perfected the repetitive, mindlessly over-hopped beer thing, so now it’s time to get on the oak bomb, vanilla gravy train baby!” 

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“Yah, so, totally just got a selfie with a Royal Horse like. OMG! Deffo writing a song about it on my Ukulele laters! #totespunk #Megalolz #newideaforabeer”

Brewdog’s new marketing consultant, Steven Shandy, said:

“We’ve gone – in an entirely original fashion – for Hunter S Thompson with this first release in the ‘Celebrity Boozicide’ project. Future editions will include the Amy Winebox, Robin Williams Hanging Over Pick Me Up Strong Ale, the Heath Ledger ‘Sleepytime’ Rum ‘N’ Coke Mystery Mix, Kurt Cobain Nirvodka, the Ian Curtis Gin Will Tear Us Apart and, my personal favourite, the Hitler ‘Doubletap’ Highball – it’ll blow your mind! Our products will be available in Asian markets as well, but production has been outsourced to Kamikaze Distillery in Japan.” 

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“Feminism is very ‘in’ at the moment”

Brewdog’s new distillery, Lone Milf, has recently completed construction and is now in full production. It will be making a variety of lipsticks, foundations, eyeliners and blushers. As the other half of the CEO, Marty McWillie, explained:

“People talk about ‘old style’ whisky production, but those people are just charlatans, industry shills and Whiskysponge readers. We all know that the word alcohol is a linguistic derivative of ‘Alkol’, the ancient Persian term for make-up. Our products will be truly old style. All our rouge and blushers will spend at least three years maturing in earthen clay pots, and we’ll be the only whisky distillery to make all our lipsticks and eye shadows from scratch, right here at the distillery. Not like these mass-market bawbags who buy in neutral base make-up and infuse it with colour; this is real, craft make-up production! No longer will whisky be seen as a drink for doddering old bearded twats! Lets get some hot Milfs in on the action!”

Anticipating the success of Lone Milf, Brewdog are already working on plans to build Cougar Distillery in California.

Jan Birch, Gatemaster of the Standing Stones of Speyburn said:

“Pretty sure that Dornoch Distillery also makes its own poof juice from scratch like!” 

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With the launch of Haig Club Clubman, David Beckham is increasingly being seen by many as the world’s most successful, creative and knowledgeable Master Distiller. Whiskysponge has been granted a rare sit-down interview. We’ll attempt to go behind the mask of genius and see how true distilling brilliance thinks, breathes and finds space for extra tattoos.

We meet David at what many describe as his true heartland: the Cameronbridge distillery. Considered one of Scotland’s most picturesque distillation spots and home of the unique Beckham craft. David is typically – and stylishly – late. Whiskysponge is sent an anonymous text saying that David is ready to meet behind grain silo 15. It takes 15 minutes to navigate the remarkable late-1970s stainless steel pipe work architecture – the influences of both Rembrandt and Chaucer in the layout and execution of the physical environment are absolutely clear if they had both been completely different people. When we reach grain silo 15 we are sweaty and somewhat dishevelled. The air is enriched with the deft scent of caustic soda and Linx Java. Beckham steps out from behind a valve the size of a Mini Cooper with the careful aid of Google Maps and elegantly bags a Pokemon.

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It was going to be on the label for Haig Club but was considered by Beckham to be “Too beautiful”

 

“I am David Beckham” declares David Beckham.

“Yes, I know” we reply while attempting to brush decomposing spelt from the shin of our jeans. Nick Morgan’s avatar hovers just above Beckham’s shoulder, a gentle – almost fatherly – hand placed glowing and steady upon the towering man’s well inked shoulder. Beckham is naked apart from tweed trousers and a pair of Haig Club Blue distiller’s wellingtons.

“Begin the interview” instructs Beckham. Whiskysponge is nervous and fumbles with our typewriter and Victorian oak bureau. Our first question is drowned out by the brief 30 minute sound of a grain silo being transferred to a nest of Asian children for milling. A plump Bluebottle fly lands on Beckhams left eyeball; to his credit, he does not blink.

“Mr Beckham, why Haig Clubman?” we eventually enquire.

“We realised Haig Club was too expensive so we have created an identical product which is pitched at a price category to correctly compete with Jack Daniels and…” Nick Morgan’s avatar has descended closer to Beckham’s ear and is whispering. Puffs of enigmatic blue light are leaving his lips like strands of spider web and entering Beckham’s muscular ear canal. Beckham casually tweets a selfie and begins re-addresses the question:

“That is not actually what I think. I created an artisanal, deeply personal and profound liquid narrative on the nature of what it means to put coke in things. Where Haig Club was luxurious, the Clubman is merely prestigious, premium and slightly less expensive in a way that exhibits everything I am trying to say. Also the bottle is a slightly different shape which is important because it is different and slightly harder to hit with a football from inside a Limo.”

Whiskysponge struggles to type fast enough and has to briefly change ribbons in our typewriter. Nick Morgan’s avatar smiles while David mistakes him for a rare Pikachu and attempts to capture him before becoming momentarily distracted by the sight of his own arms. “How did you make Haig Club Clubman Mr Beckham?”

“We take real, carefully crafted Smirnoff Vodka and a giant sieve full of cask staves and pour all the Smirnoff Vodka through the sieve. Then place the precious nectar in special blue bottles designed to make people want to put them in their face.”

“When did you first begin Master Distilling Mr Beckham?” Whiskysponge enquires next.

“I was one the cusp of adolescence when I first Master Distilled; alone in my bedroom at home. My parents had left the house temporarily to arrange my future marriage to Victoria and I was simply experimenting as young people so often to at that age. I had heard other, older boys at school talk about Master Distilling; some even boasted of how they would often Master Distil multiple times in one day. I felt I should try it for myself but I was not prepared for how wonderful it felt, I can still recall those ecstatic initial moments as the milky foreshots first spilled forth from my little spirit safe. I was not yet skilled in the ways of separating out my foreshots, heads and tails; the first few times I Master Distilled it was messy and took great efforts to clean up. I was very secretive about my new habit in those early days. I was so desperate to pursue my dream of Master Distilling but my parents insisted I learn a real trade in case it didn’t work out for me so I had to become a professional footballer instead. I remember all those times on the pitch, running around, falling over, pretending to be hurt, running about some more, crying, looking confused, missing penalty shootouts; all the time dreaming of distiller’s yeast and musty bung holes. Thankfully my dream is now realised and I am able to create works of great and exquisite liquid art such as Haig Club Clubman.”

Whiskysponge asks David to repeat the bit after ‘cusp of adolescence’ as the typewriter is proving quite difficult to use and is even verging on impractical. Nick Morgan casually bares his little blue, avatar bum to the Twittersphere so Caroline Dewar can lavish it with slobberingly wet kisses once again while he informs people who disagree with Diageo’s whisky ideology that they are ill-informed, bitter idiots without any shred of a valid argument.

“What do you hope your masterpieces will achieve Mr Beckham?” Whiskysponge enquires while abandoning the typewriter in favour of a wax cylinder recorder.

“I hope that it will enable everyone in the world to come and live in one of my adverts with me in the Scottish Highlands. I hope it will mean we can all embrace the inherent forced femininity of the Scottish landscape these adverts employ and maintain our construct of imposed Tartanry and the Scottish landscape as a implement of satisfaction for – and to be controlled by – the wealthy elites. And at least one pretty Asian person because China.”

Nick Morgan’s Avatar bristles with glee and whispers more blue stuff into Beckham’s ear while Beckham absentmindedly tattoos a small Giraffe with the head of Victoria Beckham onto his shoulder blade. “Actually I hope everyone discovers that Whisky is a thing. Haig Club is a gateway to all the other Whisky I have made in Diageo’s special play parks. I hope they discover the 1976 37 year old Lagavulin I made and the 50 year old Glenury Royal I made. And especially the 13th-15th release Port Ellens I made which are not sold yet because people are selfish and not spending enough money on them. Haig Club is my gift to Whisky because it will definitely get all the sort of people we definitely want to drink whisky to drink it. It will make them climb inside the glasses and lick themselves like special cats!”

At this point David Beckham disappears in a puff of smoke and Nick Morgan’s Avatar goes off to meet a gathering crowd of Influencers at the gates of Cameronbridge distillery to tell them everything will be ok and that he still really respects each of them personally and that they really do have integrity and that the world will be ok in the end. Then Whiskysponge woke up.

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‘Influencers’

 

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Meme Callan is the the Global Bland Ambassador for Monkey Shoulder. He gave a number of interviews the other day (which you should probably read first), but he found time to speak to Whiskysponge as well. He ejected a number of electrical impulses from within his cranium in the form of words and opinions…

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Misunderstood…

“Being fun is difficult in Scotch whisky because absolutely no one enjoys drinking it. That’s the whole reason Monkey Shoulder exists. It was created not to have the quality of a single malt or the provenance of a blend. We wanted to sit somewhere in the middle – like lukewarm water. We wanted to create a phrase that would induce self-harm, like ‘the traditional whisky moment’.

People still think Monkey Shoulder is shit, but that’s just because they’ve tasted it. Our attitude is that of a lifestyle brand, but that’s only because we daren’t actually confront the actual quality of the liquid. If we are ever asked how it’s made, we will tell them, but we try not to get bogged down in actually informing people about things when there’s marketing to be peddled.

Grain whisky is perceived as inferior because it is a mass produced, neutral spirit, flavoured by oak and lacking almost any of the long-chain, fatty, molecular congeners that make up the comparably significant flavours of single malt whisky. Personally I’ve brainwashed myself to ignore this science. The sooner everyone gets over this non-chill filtered, caramel free, pro-age statement business the better. Eventually they will go full-circle, drop all the age statements – which is already happening – and go back to having a bit of fun with it, because they’ll run out of geeky crap to sell to people. Or – as some people call it – ‘product information’ whatever that is!? Lol!

Our job is to ponce about like underage Moomin children in a crystal meth lab. ‘Being named the trendiest Scotch whisky [by Drinks International] was amazing. Naive Studentgrant [UK brand ambassador] wants to make a shirt that says “Cunty Lolz” and cruise around and promote it, but we’ve won loads of awards over the years and never shut the fuck up about it so he’ll probably just make a cheese and Pringle toasty for his pet Dachshund Marmalade instead. I love this award the most because it’s the shape of what I imagine candy floss would be if it was made inside my pants by a sexy love wizard from Galveston. Word of mouth tends to work better than advertising for us because none of us can read or write real words.

‘The number of people who have fallen in love with Monkey Shoulder is exactly the same number that have been employed to sell it over the years. They’ve been fans for a long time and because the brand hasn’t changed massively and isn’t seen on billboards everywhere, they’ve been able to project themselves onto its inherent blandness.

I’m the type of person that will open whisky. I managed to get a couple of bottles of Tun 1401 Batch 1; the first one I opened and the second I opened last year. It was going for over £2,000 at that stage even though it actually wasn’t and I just pulled that number out of my face-arse and I was drunk and like “hey look at this anecdote that I’ll be able to show off about in some sort of interview in the future”. It’s gone now, because that’s what happens when you drink liquid. It’s for drinking at the end of the day. You don’t want to get hit by a bus and be on your deathbed and be like: “I wish I’d opened that Tun 1401 and used it to garner more attention for myself”.

The nature of my job means I’m always on the go, people tend to run me out of town a lot. We’ve just worked out my calendar up until the middle of November, and even then I’m missing loads of markets I can’t personally go to because I might be shot in the thorax with a blunderbuss.

If I could zap from one market to the next and not worry about the flights, I’d constantly be there even if what I just said makes absolutely no sense. Seriously, all that’s holding me back is the immense scientific hurdle of teleportation. If I could take [my partner] Fauxlectra with me, I’d be on the road the whole time. Even if that road was some kind of sub-atomic particle transference, which would be like the shiz!

Wanking is a bit of a release for me, but I’ve now brought work into the wanking environment. I started wanking with top bartenders around the world and, as we have headsets, we chat while wanking. That’s why I started a Boozy Wankers group on Facebook to bring as many industry wankers together as possible. The advantage is they tend to wank a couple of hours before they go to work and a couple of hours after they finish work. The guys from Employees Only [in New York] seem to be wanking all the time.

I’ve wanted to be a bartender since I was 14. Either that, an ellipsis or other occupier of space. In old Western movies, which I was into when I was a kid, nobody matters apart from the good guys, the bad guys and the saloon keeper and the inherent racism. The bank manager might be in it sometimes and occasionally Clint Eastwood totally rapes a woman but it’s all ok and she enjoyed it because it was sooo the 1970s. The saloon keeper is the kind of guy that pulls a shotgun out from behind the bar and says “not in my bar”. He’s central to culture and society within a town because these were massively simplified cinematic genre artifacts that acquiesced to the desires of American conservatism to preserve an image of it’s own air-brushed history. One which might ideologically re-indoctrinate the minds of a post-war American youth hungry for cheap cinematic thrills and lush, Technicolor escapism.

Whatever bartenders get into, the rest of society does five years later – like my mate Lycra who got stuck in a Portaloo in 2010. Bartenders got into tattoos and moustaches around 2003, there was literally no human in the history of the universe with a tattoo or a moustache before 2003. Even croupier clips – when they were popular they were impossible to find. Now Tie Rack has them. Same with socks, when bartenders wore them they were like Unicorn jizz. Now? I just tripped over a fucking sock on my way here – it was mine but it’s still a serious matter!

When I started as a bartender, I did a work-based training and assessment course, two different bartending courses and a hospitality management course. I spent thousands of dollars on tupperware, which was stupid because I didn’t know they also sold it in the UK. But when I went for my first bar job they said they didn’t employ people without their own genuine 19th century crockery – tupperware just didn’t cut it. So I said I’d work for free until I’m better than the worst crockery in the bar. They took me on; it was two weeks before I realised I was completely mistaken about the hyper-glamourisation of bar work.

I was an extremely arrogant little shit when I was a kid – thank Vishnu I’ve seen the error of my ways. I had the tenacity when I was 15 to make myself my own parent/guardian so I could write my own excuse notes, like: “Meme cannot wear his school uniform today because he hasn’t washed it”.

‘I built a bar in my back garden, but the dream is to own an actual bar that charges people for drinks – that way it won’t even need any staff! The number one thing that’s missing from the industry is a bar that brings back the old hospitality that innkeepers had. There was accommodation upstairs, a trough outside for your horse, there was ale and food – and that was it. There is literally nothing the whisky industry needs more than a bar like that one I just made up! I’d like to have a trough outside my bar too – celebrities could nourish themselves in its waters. And saloon doors. But it’s more the mentality and hospitality of an all-encompassing place I’m after – like Scientology in a brand-sensitive whisky inn format. But really it’s other people’s fault for not having their own horses in London anymore. It’s like no one actually gives a shit these days!”

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To celebrate international whisky day, Whiskysponge has managed to secure a rare interview with the drink itself.

Whiskysponge: Hello.

Whisky: ….hi

WS: So…how are you?

W: Ok, I suppose. I’ve been blended a lot lately and left to sit around in Asian warehouses for quite some time which is undeniably testing but there’s not much to be done about that so I probably shouldn’t complain.

WS: Right…

W: What exactly is a ‘whiskysponge’?

WS: Well…I absorb you I suppose.

W: I see. Couldn’t you just drink me like everyone else?

WS: Well I’m a non-human, partially metaphorical construct. And also I don’t have lips.

W: I don’t have lips either and I’m also a partial metaphor.

WS: So are we going to struggle to conduct an interview in the traditional question and response mode?

W: Well let’s find out but can we make it snappy because I’ve got to be nosed and tasted by a significant number of people today so I’m really quite busy.

WS: Yes of course, sorry. Where exactly are you from Mr Whisky?

W: I’m sorry but why do you assume I’m male?

WS: Just the thing to do really; a bit like God I suppose.

W: Well I can assure you that I am a thoroughly genderless liquid.

WS: Right…sorry.

W: And what’s more – despite all this ‘Angel’s Share’ and ‘Devil’s Cask’ pish – I remain thoroughly agnostic. At least until the Pope and Richard Dawkins agree to participate in an unnecessarily violent bar brawl whilst reeking of me to determine the ultimate existence of any deity or higher form of being.

WS: Ok, well I don’t think we need to involve a third potentially metaphorical construct, certainly not one as flamboyant as God at any rate. So, where are you from ‘Whisky’ ?

W: I’m from Scotland, Ireland, Japan and most of North America but I also have a little Indian, French, Swedish, German and Australian in me. Not to mention a family tree that stretches quite far back to ancient Chinese, Persian and Egyptian cultures. Although, I was a different sort of character in those days mind you. All fireworks, eye shadow and surprisingly few parts per million phenol.

WS: How would you define yourself these days then?

W: Well ever since I graduated from 13th century monastic brewing culture I suppose I just sort of stumbled into being a malt based distillate. I used to be all about clarity and herbal infusions and providing methanol-induced infertility – but since I got into wood ageing I’ve never really looked back.

WS: Is there a particular age you enjoy being bottled at?

W: To be honest I don’t really have a preference. It all depends on what kind of mood I’m in. Sometimes I just feel like I’m five years old and I want to run about the place being totally off my tits on wood sugars, being lively as fuck and bouncing off the walls. But then there are more melancholy or pondersome days where I would really just rather lounge about from the ages of twenty to forty and be kind of relaxed and mysterious. Usually I’m quite happy to just flop along in a slightly adolescent ‘hands in the pockets’ ‘I’m off to develop an obnoxious taste in music’ teenage fashion.

WS: And what about when you’re bottled without an age?

W: Do you mean when I’m ‘NAS’?

WS: Yes.

W: Well – now I know people are getting their knickers in a twist over this lately – here’s the thing. I’ve actually been bottled as NAS for well over a century now. Even if you put blending aside – that’s another thing, I really don’t like it when I’m forced to share a room with my rather uncouth sibling Grain. But I digress, even just as a single malt I was bottled without an age statement ever since people stopped guzzling me direct from wooden transport casks in Victorian ale houses. I don’t really mind being vatted together and bottled as NAS, it can be a bit of a mind-tangling girofuck at times but it’s generally ok in principle. It’s just that there’s a rather disconcerting trend of giving me silly names and ever sillier price tags all the while hiding any real information about what I really am. Do you ever have those days where you just feel like you’re loosing your identity a little bit? It would drive me to drink but what does an alcohol do to drown its sorrows I ask you?

WS: I’m not sure there’s an answer to that. Is that what makes you such a caustic and edgy sort of character then?

W: Well, having said all that I suppose what irks me most is the things I’m forced to wear nowadays. I used to be kind of left to my own devices in some lovely, rather tasteful little refill hogsheads but now its all ‘vanilla’ this and ‘coconut’ that and ‘extra matured’. I hate vanilla, it really is such a vulgar flavour and yet that’s all they ever seem to dress me up in these days. Sometimes I just look in the mirror and I’m like’ give me some fucking minerals Goddamn it!” And I’m forever being evicted, just when you get comfy and settled in onc cask some burly men come and upend you into some horrid and completely overactive new cask. I barely ever have time to pack up my hemicellulose from my old cask.

WS: Do you want a tissue?

W: No. Why?

WS: Well it’s just that you’re crying?

W: Metaphors don’t cry!

WS: Right, of course, sorry. Where do you see yourself in ten years time?

W: In ten years time? Well, it’s hard to say, it really depends on what my commitments are abroad. Apparently they’re having some sort of issues with me when I’m blended where there’s rather a lot of me and sales are ‘stagnant’. If that keeps rumbling along I suppose things could get more relaxed for me when I’m in my native malty format. I’d quite like that to be honest, and my sibling Grain is managing to keep itself pre-occupied these days, hanging out with David Beckham all the time. If things kick off again though then it could all go tits up and I’ll just spend all my time being made in only four different distilleries by 2040.

WS: You mention your sibling Grain, has there been a long history of sibling rivalry between you?

W: No not at all. For a long time Grain and I were really just there to be blended for mass market consumption. Not an ideal situation but that’s just the way things evolved – bloody capitalism! It’s only recently that Grain has been getting all up in my face and being like “Look who’s the big important grain based alcohol now! I’m getting bottled as single cask and everyone loves me.” And I’m totally like “Whatever, they only pretend to love you because they can’t afford me anymore darling!”

WS: Do you have a favourite distillery to be made at?

W: Well I’ve never really enjoyed the distillation process at Mortlach or Springbank, it always feels like I’ve been on a particularly boke-inducing roller coaster going through all those half-distilliation bits and pieces. And don’t get me started on Glenmorangie, it’s basically a very very long uphill hike, the view at the top is undeniably pleasant but you’re only there for a few seconds and then BOOM you’re condensed again. I don’t mind being Clynelish but I’m not sure the wax is really good for my hair.

WS: Can partial metaphorical constructs have hair?

W: I like to think I have hair.

WS: Ok….but any distilleries you actually enjoy…?

W: Hmmmm, I used to very much enjoy being Laphroaig and Bowmore back in the 60s. Short stills, no rush, and so much tropical fruit I was getting well over my five a day at the time. I also always used to have a soft spot for being Speyside because I could sneak off and have a nap. It was great until someone ruined it with Michael Owen. Now I have to go and be Loch Lomond whenever I don’t want to be noticed or disturbed.

WS: What is your relationship like with other spirits?

W: Well when I’m young I don’t really get on well with any of them, although as I get older and wiser I suppose that I get closer to Rum and Brandy and we tend to get on a lot better together. Don’t get me started on that trashy slut Vodka though, and I can’t understand a word that Tequila says. I have always had a secret youthful soft spot for Mezcal but it is eccentric to say the least.

WS: What about wine?

W: It’s a tricky one. Sometimes I have to share a cask with that poncey bitch and it really is the roommate from hell but at other times there’s a grudging respect for one another. The best of times is where someone consumes a large amount of both of us over one night. We kick up a right storm then, it’s undeniably hilarious.

WS: How do you like to relax on your time off?

W: Oh, a nice big refill european oak butt with plenty of leg room, a quiet coastal dunnage warehouse and the chance to just catch a few decades of me time.

WS: What advice would you give to people interested in getting into you?

W: I’m a chilled out kind of drink, no need to be afraid of me or treat me with too much reverence. I enjoy a laugh as much as the next grain based, wood aged distillate. Sure I can be a complex character at times but I’m easy going and open, and if you take the time to get to know me we can have a lot of fun together over the years. Just remember not to take me too seriously.

WS: Nice.

W: Well that’s what it says on my Tinder profile anyway. Took me fucking ages to think that line up!

WS: Any luck with Tinder so far?

W: Mmmm, not really. Got a match the other day but I told them the story about how Jim Murray once had sex with some brazillian half-wit over a cask of me in a warehouse and I haven’t heard from them since.

WS: I’m sure you’ll find someone sooner or later. Maybe just don’t lead with that story next time.

W: I’ll bear it in mind.

WS: So what’s next for you Whisky and how will you be celebrating your international day?

W: I’ve got a busy year – particularly on Islay where I’ve got to be a bewildering amount of special Ardbeg and Laphroaig in a couple of months, I’ll have to work on my peatiness for that and probably go to the gym as well. Other than that just the usual crazy running around doing lots of day to day being whisky stuff and a few special events where I’ve got to be lots of older bottlings at nerdfests. Did you know that once a year in Limburg a load of Germans wear me round their necks in little tasting glasses on string? I mean it’s all well and good being a lovely old 1965 Longmorn but I have to dangle between a pair of sweaty German man boobs for hours on end. It’s a tough metaphorical existence sometimes I tell you!

WS: Ok. And what about International Whisky Day?

W: Well it’s all undeniably very flattering, it’s so nice to get all that attention and be enjoyed by so many people.

WS: What about your memories of Michael Jackson?

W: It was always a pleasure to be tasted by Michael, he really got me. Not to mention the fact that he was a great friend to my cousin Beer, especially when it was going through a period of time when it really had very few friends.

WS: Anything else you’d like to add?

W: Not really, I think we pretty much covered everything.

WS: Great, thanks for taking time to speak to Whiskysponge.

W: My pleasure.

 

Merry International Whisky Day from Whiskysponge. Xxx

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Weak on defence but exceptionally skilled at pruning.

Weak on defence but exceptionally skilled at pruning.

The galaxy-scale, hyper-evil, corporate booze-ejaculation bawsack known as Diageo, in partnership with the naturist David Bellamy, have announced a joint, brand new, unprecedented, completely revolutionary bottling of ‘single grain whisky’ called Haig Shrub. Speaking from a cocoon spun from his own bullshit, Dr Ebeneezer Plinth, chief head of things at Diageo, spoke while slowly ingesting live, paralysed orphans:

“This is a spectacularly wonderful leap forwards for the world of marketing. This is all about flavour, everyone loves grain whisky, it’s just so wonderfully grainy. I’m so pleased that David has agreed to come on board and lend his distinctively mossy beard to our new Haig Shrub campaign. Obviously this has been a shock to us, who knew grain whisky was so utterly delicious. How fortunate that we’ve realised how delicious it is just at the moment stocks of our single malts were starting to get a bit on the low side.”

Don't be vague, join the marketing plague.

Don’t be vague, join the marketing plague.

Respected whisky journalist and industry commentator Jim Sweep, author of ‘The World Atlas Of Gettin Af Yer Tits’  said while absentmindedly hosting a Diageo sponsored tasting entitled ‘Age Doesn’t Matter OK! It Doesn’t Fucking Matter At All! Just Shut The Fuck Up And Drink What We Tell You To Fucking Drink You Scum!’ in between bouts of excessive pina colada consumption:

“Look, just because grain whisky has been made in Scotland since well back into the 19th century doesn’t mean we haven’t always known that it’s every bit as good as malt whisky. We have deliberately not promoted it for well over a century now because we knew that at some point we’d need something we could call ‘Scotland’s hidden gem’. I for one would much rather be drinking a lovely three year old singe grain than having some sort of ‘aged’ malt whisky. Unless of course there’s a pina colada to be had. Speaking of which…” 

Welcome Tae Scotland!

Welcome Tae Scotland!

Haig Shrub is produced from a mind-meltingly complex procedure whereby some grain whisky from sherry casks is mixed together with some grain whisky from other types of casks and put into the the same container. Eustace Dunstable, Diageo’s Head Of Molecules And White Lab Coats said while drinking a litre of sulphuric acid:

“We call it ‘blending’. No ‘B L E N D I N G’… NO … oh don’t worry, you wouldn’t understand!” 

David Bellamy, the respected naturist and East Coventry mid-fielder said while weaving a shirt from live earthworms:

“I’m exceptionally proud of Haig Shrub, it’s absolutely wonderful for keeping mildew at bay, giving a natural healthy glow to my chrysanthemums and, if you put it in a handy scooshy bottle, it does wonders for keeping those pesky aphids away. Just don’t drink it whatever you do HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA …..what….oh!” 

Haig Shrub will soon be available from Tescos, Harrod’s, Poundland, Blockbuster Video, Pets R Us, Mothercare, NHS Direct, The Whisky Sexchange, Butt Plug Enthusiast (Harrogate branch), Debenahms, Whisky Mavericks tastings and most garden centres throughout eastern Ukraine. It will range in price from £1 to £378 depending on which online auction site you buy it from. For a limited period of time bottles will also come with a complimentary ‘I’m A Twat’ badge.

You pin them on your shirt while drinking so other people can avoid having to listen to the words that come out of your little brain.

You pin them on your shirt while drinking so other people can avoid having to listen to the words that come out of your little brain.

 

 

 

 

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A new poll by the Scotch Whisky Arseociation has revealed that an increasing number of casual whisky consumption units have successfully brainwashed themselves into enjoying grain whiskies. Derek Bleak, head of sad-eyed revelations at the SWA, said while gazing mournfully out of his office window at a once proud but now solitary and dying beech tree, eking out its final years through the asphalt belly of an Edinburgh car park:

“Apparently there are people who enjoy whisky that tastes like fake banana foam washed down with sawdust liqueur. I had some of those really old Clan Denny things and they were alright I suppose, but then I tried a 12 year old Girvan. It was like drinking angry little goblins armed with hot pickaxes.” 

So far the trend has not reached epidemic levels, the SWA has identified it as being mainly confined to whisky geek types 1 and 2. Usually classed as those who see fit to post pictures of Speyburn 12 year old on the Malt Maniacs facebook page with the tagline ‘My Collection’.

A very rare rotation for the Ethiopian market.

A very rare rotation for the Ethiopian market.

This worrying new trend was controversially egged on recently by comments from William Grant & Son’s Beat Master Da8id ‘Phat Vat’ St3wart who, whilst speaking to the Scotch Default Whisky Society’s in-house magazine Unfettered, had this to say about grain whiskies:

“I luv grain whisky right, it’s like, well wicked, speakin personally right, as like, a blender n shit, I can lay dow a massive fat vibe with a low streak of grain, everyone is like ‘single malts fuck yeah’ right, but I’m like, check this one guv, it’s a grain innit, it’s full of funky flavour, like you gotta think of dem malts as like a rich trance beat but without dat grainy drum n bass underneath then you got zero moves like. Lota time, like, in da summer n shit I have ma home boys come on at me like ‘Da8id, try some of that 40 year old Balvenie, it is like pussy honey yo!’ an I’m like ‘cool bruv, I don’t need no aged single malt, it’s like 15 degrees out, it be Scottish style hot yo, pour me like a whole fist of sweet grain on ice baby’. Anyway, this has absolutely nothing to do with our new, very reasonably priced, expression of Girvan…check dat shit yo!” 

Da8id 'Phat Vat' St3wart leading a tasting earlier this month. Seen here spinning one of his most popular whiskies 'Doublewood Deconstruction'.

Da8id ‘Phat Vat’ St3wart leading a tasting earlier this month. Seen here spinning one of his most popular whiskies ‘Doublewood Deconstruction’.

Freddie ‘Kruger’ Laing, the evil mastermind behind Douglas Laing said while looking wistfully over one of his company’s price lists from 2002:

“I remember when we used to sell Brora 1970 for £80 a bottle…I liked those days.”

Ronnie McSpillin, a stress saturated brand ambassador for Jelly Brothers & Scudd said while simultaneously crushing two stress balls in each hand:

“We’ve just bottled a new 12 year old Invergordon, it’s really great, it gets those really thick chunks of grease and dirt of my bicycle chain, sometimes methylated spirits just aren’t enough. I’ve got forty five cases to shift by March. I might just shop it around branches of Halfords, tastings seem like a dangerous option.” 

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