Evil Spirits

Not talking voodoo hoodoo, here.

They often say: "You get what you pay for", don't they? 
Who this mysterious "they" are I have no idea, but quite often "they" talk a lot of sense and I reckon that "they" should be listened to more often than not.  Are "they" the voices in my head?

Anyway, back to the point: "You get what you pay for".
Yes, nowhere is evidence to support this argument more prominent than when purchasing alcohol.  I'll give you an example.  Last night I was in my friendly, neighbourhood supermarket and whilst picking up the essentials, I swung by the alcohol aisle for a quick browse.  You see I do like a small night cap just before bedtime, a splash of a fine single malt or a nice warming brandy around eleven is a fabulous close to the evening.  Not only does a nightcap dissolve the stresses of the working day, it can also help one drift off into a deep, relaxing slumber.  Marvellous.

So there I was looking at the bottles of Laphroaig (lovely stuff, nectar, and did you know that Laphroaig was the only whisky you could legally buy during the American Prohibition?) and Courvoisier (Mmm.. brandy) and they're all quite pricey.  Now it's not as if I'm buying a bottle of this stuff a week, or that I'm particularly strapped for cash, but I still have some reservations about shelling out nearly £20 on a 70cl bottle of the stuff.  I feel doubly guilty about this sort of expenditure when it's only me who can actually enjoy it (as, while pregnant, spirits are WAY off the menu for my better half).  So, for once, I allowed my eyes to wander all along the rows of bottles that were on display, and happened upon a bottle of "Napoleon" brandy.  Now it looked a very similar colour to Courvoisier, the bottle had a dimple in the bottom of it, just like Courvoisier, and it was £9 for 70cl (compare that to nearly £18 for 70cl of Courvoisier). 

"Hell, it's probably practically the same stuff" I reasoned and grabbed what I thought was a bargain..

CUT TO:

INT - MY LIVING ROOM; LATER THAT EVENING.
ME and THE MISSUS sit on the sofa.  From the television, one can hear the closing bars of the signature tune of the BBC 10 O'Clock news.

So it's that time of evening where, if I feel like it (and it's not every night, don't want to come across as some sort of alcoholic here),  I normally break out a little tipple.  I just happen to mention at this point, that I went for a bargain bottle of brandy this week, a bottle of Napoleon, and I hear, in response, the phrase "Oh.. really?  Well, I guess it's okay with a mixer".

Damn!
You see I never have any mixers in my bedtime tipples (usually because I wouldn't want to ruin my fine single malt or brandy).

No surely, it cannot be that bad, surely she's exaggerating..
I head to the kitchen with a mild sense of foreboding and dread, have I blown nine quid on 70cl of shite?  I sincerely hope not.. My hand reaches for the bottle, my god - it's a twisty off cap.. there's no cork (there's always a cork in Courvoisier and Laphroaig), this is not a good sign.  I upend the bottle and begin to pour and, to be fair, there is a satisfying glug-glug sound as the spirit empties into the glass.  Maybe It'll be alright after all.  I mean it looks alright.  And it sounded alright.  It's gonna be alright, right..?

Sip.
Hmm..
Well it's not thoroughly nasty, in fact it's just about drinkable, but you can tell where that extra £9 goes in a bottle of Courvoisier..  And I shall not look forward to my night cap with quite as much enthusiasm this evening, and won't again until I polish off this bottle of cheap brandy.  C'est la vie.  Lesson learnt.