Wined Your Body

Ernest Gallo is dead, leaving behind a vale of tears, made from cheap wine. I used to drink regularly with a crowd of Buckfast obsessives, although I was never really one for it myself, and drank it only when physically forced to, which was most nights. One time, ages ago, there was an outbreak of groupthink, and they started forswearing it, based on the belief that it was aggravating their psychosis. They chose Ernest and Julio Gallo White Grenache as a replacement, since it was ‘proper’ wine, and stuck with it for a couple of weeks. In a matter of days the standard of our darts games rose dramatically. I would estimate that the percentage of darts actually hitting the dartboard rose well above 90%. Ernest Gallo was directly responsible for this civilised interlude.

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