This article is all well and good. Wine, wine, wine, choff, choff, choff. But it never actually delves into the one question that I, and surely thousands of other innocent newspaper readers, really want answered. Why has that woman got her baps out?
Now, chances are that this is some sort of Melbourne institution that I’ve missed by not being trendy enough. “Oh you fool, don’t you know anything? She can tell whether it’s a white or red just by dipping her left nipple into it” etc…
Either that or it’s a concerted effort to increase box office at their show by hinting that there will be a hint of nork on stage. Jokes on them when the readership of Zoo Weekly turn up, realise it’s not the food and wine version of Alvin Purple and trash the place.
Besides, all this fine wine talk is academic to me. Everyone knows that the only wine expert I ever consult is Dino;
When you get your next under-the-counter copy of Underbelly from some bloke at Upfield train station look closely, I think you’ll see Dino in the background opening fire on one of the Moran family.