“You can expect a fruity sensation at the front of your mouth, but for it to seem a little drier when it reaches the back. It is not unusual to smell berries and chocolate as this is quite a rich red.”

I am beginning to see double.

I have never been wine tasting before, and I think my lack of experience is beginning to show. I have yet to spit anything out, or in fact pour anything away. Along with my friend the Claw, I am also gratefully accepting the remnants of my other friends glasses.

“I can smell burnt toast and, err, BMX tyres?”

My incisive comment is not as well received as I had hoped. They are not amused.

“Dog Biscuits? Anyone else getting dog biscuits?” I plead with the group.

I am informed that I have a poor nose. It is no Brad Pitt nose, I will admit, but I am happy with it and that is all that matters. It has served me well and rarely bleeds.

After a few hours I come to the conclusion that I will never be a wine ponce. We are drinking a £45 wine called “Ernie Els” in the personal vineyard of one of the worlds best golfers – I am not sure which one – and yet I can not tell the difference between it, and a bottle of wine I would buy in Sainsburys for five pounds. This is, I am reliably informed, a “bad thing”.

I can not see this though. I can get as much enjoyment from a five pound bottle as someone can get from a forty five pound bottle. How is this a bad thing?

I continue to drink everything put in front of me and completely forget what happens in the second half of the day.

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