Ballantine's Championship Blend Whisky

In a recent episode of the BBC’s masterful satire, The Thick of It, the potty-mouthed Labour spin doctor, Malcolm Tucker, explains to one of his colleagues, all the things, beginning with the letter N, he’d like to do whilst still in power. Somewhere near the top of the list, explains the fundamentalist misanthrope, is “nail bombing all of Britain’s golf clubs”.

A comedic sound bite to leftist slurry you might say, and I may have been inclined to concur were it not for the first 15 seconds of visiting Wentworth Golf course recently.

Luring International Life to the fringes of well-heeled suburban Surrey, between me and you, was the opportunity to get close to some calibre Scotch whisky; Ballantine’s blended whisky to be specific; Ballantine’s 50th Anniversary Championship Blend Scotch Whisky to be pedantic.

In keeping with media events of the sort, there were VIPs, who, doing there utmost to look like they wanted to be there, bejewelled the occasion fittingly. The first of such, and my personal favourite, was Ballantine’s fifth Master Blender, Sandy Hislop. Sandy was there to explain, in convincingly ebullient tone, why he had spent the last few months creating a particularly rare blend of Scotch.

As historical bedfellows, Ballantine’s and professional golf have enjoyed the mutual benefits of corporate kinship for 50 years. The event marks this demi-centenary, which began at Wentworth, with a special round of golf.

With the obsequious media gaggle sniffably close, Neil Coles, winner of the Ballantine’s Cup in 1961 and Graeme McDowell the 2007 winner switched clubs, outfits and balls to play a one hole tête-à-tête on Wentworth’s 18th.

This brings us, convolutedly, to the 15 seconds. Picture a box-fresh Chelsea tractor, driven by one of Wentworth’s esteemed members, going at a speed most unsuited to a car park, veering in our direction.

The driver flirted so close with impact as to clip my colleague’s attaché. The member then stopped, got out, and acerbically reminded us of our pedestrian etiquette. Neither of us were wearing the club tie which, I propose, was the more likely explanation for this impromptu act of renegade pavement surfing.

And so with a renewed gratitude for the gift of life we caught up with the stars, nearing the end of their exhibition. Subsequent to this, the interviews and other media obstacles was lunch and mostly importantly, the tasting.

In a room upholding the oldest of tradition – boys only…naturally – we heard Master Blender Sandy wax lyrical on tradition, production and other matters of pertinence before awards and gifts were presented.

My favourite of which was the priceless bottle of this Championship Blend given to Neil Coles, who had earlier told me he was teetotal. My colleague, from the other side of the banqueting table, threw me inquisitive eyebrows as I smiled wryly whilst trying to find something – anything – in my pockets that’s I could trade with Neil afterwards.

As predictable as the Dickensian minded golf lodge in which it sat, The 2010 Championship Blend was an epicurean box ticker. Robust, deep bodied and filled with flavours of oranges, pears and raisins. I watched as the aforesaid chaff melted, well forgotten, into sybaritic sensory splendour. Sandy, I love you.

In view of the facts, the earlier Tuckerism may seem a touch gauche. A suggestion perhaps, could be the recommencement of Dave Benson Phillips’ Get Your Own Back where one could send the most bombastic of the golfing bunch down the gunge shoot. That should satisfy karma. And if one must result to more extreme tactics, then do let’s make sure we get all the Whisky out first.

Comments? Contact me on damien@internationallife.tv