Whisky Magazine Issue 32
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Ever wondered about the demands of being a whisky superstar? John Haydock offers his answerphone contents up for scrutiny
You don't have to be a world-famous whisky superstar like yours truly to need an answerphone, but when you are, it sure beats the hell out of having to accept a Mannochmore Martini when you know that somewhere there's a Longmorn Lombomba on offer – if you get my drift.
Just try to imagine all my travel – intelligence gathering as I discreetly relax in the hot-tub of the Archiestown Hotel Leisure Spa, unrecognised amongst the wagging tongues (and other bits!) of the movers and shakers of Speyside's finest, or communing with my spiritual side in my isolated Islay hideaway (isolated, that is, apart from the three dozen or so neighbouring hideaways that are being rapidly colonised by the incoming hoardes of patronising pen-pushing whisky scribes), or my unabated executive-class globe-trotting at the behest of my chief industry pal and patron Rupert.
And, of course, there's my tireless travel on behalf of you, my audience, my discerning high-value consumers, to explain to you at length the inherent authentic yet innovative, traditional yet strangely contemporary, hand-crafted tho' occasionally mass-produced, core brand values of – you've guessed it – John Haydock (with the odd reference to any grog that some munificent malt distilling monolith might have chosen to throw my way).
Well, what with all of that, I need some way to handle the ‘phone calls that amass in my absence, and, between you and me, Mrs H. has made it quite clear that she's not going to do it.