More fruit-driven than Boy George’s car, this stellar Margaret River Shiraz would be right at home in Willy Wonka’s cellar (the original, not the shit Johnny Depp one).

Concentrated blackberries reminiscent of Wonka’s lickable wallpaper precedes a chewy burst of blueberries, à la Violet Beauregarde. Next, I’m drowning in a dark chocolate river like that chubby German cunt, while a bunch of compassionless Oompa Loompas insensitively croon about my impending liquid death.

A fruity beauty framed by fleshy tannins with traces of cinnamon and white pepper (maybe black pepper, I’m not a Spice Girl). Nicely structured with more length than an everlasting gobstopper.

Slugworth can go fuck himself. He’s never getting is Nazi hands on this vino.

Drink with steak + Snozberry jus.