Backstreet boozer not far from the sea, sunny Sunday evening. A flame haired, ill-tempered 30-something woman approaches the bar. She has enjoyed a few scoops. And I don’t mean ice cream.
Her: (Rudely) What wine have you got?
Barman: Red or white, madam?
Her: White. (As if he should have known that) No Chilean. I’m a wine snob. I hate Chilean.
Barman: We have Sauvignon Blanc, and a Chenin Blanc.
Her: Where’s the Sauvignon from?
Barman: South Africa. Would you like a taste? (She assents and swigs a tasting measure of the Sauvignon Blanc.)
Her: Yeah. That’s ok. I’ll have a bottle of the Chenin.
Barman: (with so much patience) Would you like to taste that one too?
Her: No point. Burnt my mouth on a cup of coffee earlier. Can’t really taste anything. It was proper coffee. I normally have it out of a machine and it’s not so hot.