Sainsbury's Soave

I went to a dinner party last night, because that's the sort of sophisticated thing I do these days. Most of you have probably never been to a dinner party have you? I expect you'd like me to illuminate this decadent world of glamour, and give you tantalising insights into the elegant majesty of such an occasion, while you weep quietly into your Pot Noodle. The food! The people! The impeccable cutlery!

Yeah, well, I'm not going to. And if you wouldn't mind keeping your proletarian noses out of my business in future, it would be much appreciated.

The only reason I mention the party, is because it obliged me to stop off at Sainsbury's on the way, to purchase the obligatory bottle of wine. (An excellent system this: rock up with a cheap bottle of vino, and then you are perfectly at liberty to knock back as much of the host's booze as you can. Brilliant.) Not being particularly flush at the moment, I perused the aisles, wondering just how miserly I could go.

Sainsbury's Basic White Wine at £2.05? Clearly not, but a mental note has been made for the future that this is a supremely cheap way of getting battered. Next step up is Sainsbury's Soave. True, it still says Sainsbury's on the label, but it also has a nice picture of a flower. Two pounds ninety nine. Can I really take a three quid bottle of wine to a party? I ummed and aahed for a bit. Umm, I said. Aah, I said. People were starting to look at me a bit funny. I glanced at the smug row of Jacob's Creeks, perched superciliously above their five quid price tags, fully aware that they were really the de rigueur choice for such occasions. I peered longingly across the supermarket floor, towards the chilled section, where the scotch egg I would also be able to afford if I only spent three quid on the booze was squatting seductively.

In the end, it all became too much, and in a blind panic I heaved the entire shelf of wine to the floor and, stripping down to my pants, I splashed and cavorted wildly amongst the shattered glass and glugging alcohol, screaming an improvised anthem in honour of scotch eggs until terrified staff beat me into sobbing submission with their mops.

I didn't really. I bought the Sainsbury's Soave. Hopefully, upon arrival at the party I'd be able to quickly bury it amongst the other offerings, and no-one would ever know of my pikey shame.

You don't really care about any of this, do you? You want to know what it tastes like. I'm wasting your oh-so-valuable time, aren't I? I can only apologise. Let's cut, as they say, to the chase. What does Sainsbury's Soave taste like?

Surprise, surprise, it tastes like a grotesquely cheap bottle of white wine. Not actually disgusting, but just flat, bland, and with a vaguely unpleasant, chemically aftertaste. But then what were you expecting? Hints of skylark? A mahogany finish? A complex, jubilant nose than immediately conjures up the image of butterflies gambolling joyfully on the back of a newborn elk? No, you don't get any of those things. This is no-frills wine at its most basic. I couldn't say for sure, but I imagine it is made in a laboratory, pumped out of a big white Wine-o-Matic machine. I don't think casks or anything are involved.

The ABV is 11%, which is at the lower end of the scale for white wine. If, like me, that magic number is the first thing you look for on a bottle, you might be a bit disappointed. But come on, 11% isn't bad, really. If you were to down it in one go it would still give you that pleasantly warm, fuzzy feeling that makes you want to urinate freely on a friend's dining room carpet. Which is no bad thing. Unless of course your friend is one of those uptight fascists who isn't too keen on wading through urine on his way to breakfast, in which case, get yourself some new friends.

I'm not sure what else I can tell you really. Er, the bottle has a cork in it, so make sure you have a corkscrew. It's displayed in Sainsbury's alongside the other scrubber wines (Lambrini et al), so it's quite clear to the more discerning wine customer that you're foraging in the cheap section like a desperate animal, but that's just something you have to live with. It has a green bottle. And, while not tasting like ACTUAL piss, it does taste somehow reminiscent of the sort of piss an grape might do. I'm not sure this is a helpful comparison, but it's all I've got.

That's it then. Bog standard wine at a price you can't argue with. Knock yourself out.