Have The Last Word

I mentioned in my previous piece - not the one where I cursed the wretched South African croissant, but the one about handcrafted beer - that I don’t drink anything other than the good French stuff. If it doesn’t have the word champagne attached to it it’s not getting past my lips.

I’m not, as I’m sure you’ve gathered, a person who lightly bends my morals so, you can imagine my inner-conflict when a selection of local South Africa Méthode Cap Classique was delivered to the The Last Word Cape Town boutique hotel I’m presenting residing at.

I obviously would never have noticed this delivery had it not been marked for my attention. How - whoever sent this package - knew were I was (and still am) staying is beyond me. I’ve been incredibly discrete but, I suppose,*dramatic sigh* being a well-known French socialite means that these things are bound to get out.

It seems that someone, out there, wants me to try this selection of Not-French-Champagne and I must admit that I am considering it. Not because I want to change, I’m not interested in changing, but because I want to be able to clearly explain to the less-cultured out there why South African Méthode Cap Classique can never be as good as my beloved French Champagne. I can’t do this until I’ve tried the South African Méthode Cap Classique.

So yes I’ll be doing this for you, you the less-cultured. There is no need to thank me; I’m very philanthropic.