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"Warm buttery overtones reminiscent of the summer sun setting over the Tuscan hills. A reipe peppery bouquet, shame it tastes like camel piss."
'Close enough, the one on your right is the red. Congratulation! You're our new wine critic.'
"Not bad for prison Hooch. It lacks body, but I ain't complaining. The last time someone did, he added one."
'Grisly? That's being a bit harsh, Paul, though I do admit it's a bit rough around the edges.'
"Waiter, this wine is corked!"
'Personally, I'd prefer something punchier.'
'I was down in the dumps, so I bought a bottle of wine. It tastes like it was bottled there, too.'
'The first thing that struck me about this evening's Champagne was the cork.'
'And this is my dad. He's the wine critic for The Herald and he can drink your dads under the table.'
'What were you saying a minute ago, about not being able to judge a wine by its label?'
'According to the wine critic for The Herald, this is the biggest fucking wine book he's ever seen.'
"Would Sir care to read about the wine?"
Wine conniosseurs in hell.