Mourning Julia Gillard with the greatest wine ever to come out of Australia

My Australian friend was in mourning over the removal of Julia Gillard, the country’s first female prime minister. She had been everything a leftist politician ought to be: ineffectual and un-electable. I concurred; sacking Labour leaders just because they could not win an election sets a very bad example to the rest of the world.

For solace, he had decanted a bottle. Something in the nonchalance with which the glass was poured aroused my suspicions, which were strengthened when the nose reached halfway across the room (he is, shall we say, well off). I sipped, savoured splendour, and speculated. ‘I think I’ve had this before, to celebrate when a girl called Mary Wakefield joined The Spectator. It wasn’t quite ready then. It is now.’ Robert Parker said that once mature, the ’76 Grange Hermitage would rival the ’61 Pétrus, which I have never tasted. It is possible to question Mr Parker’s judgment on Cab Sauvs grown in gravelly soil, but he is at ease with more instantly accessible wines. The King of Shiraz and the Queen of Merlot: a happy comparison.

That said, there is a caveat for any squillionaire tempted to arrange such a courtship. At a plutocratic dinner party in Manhattan, another friend of mine was recently served a ’69 Le Montrachet and the ’61 Pétrus. What, apart from envy, did I think? ‘The Pétrus ought to have been beyond praise while the Montrachet had an excuse for showing its age. But I’m obviously meant to be counter-intuitive, so presumably it was vice-versa.’ ‘Bang on. The Montrachet tasted as if it would last for ever, but even the Yanks could tell that the Pétrus was disappointing.’ Equally, another friend of mine, Robin Bomer, whose cellar rivals his palate, says that he has occasionally run a Grange Hermitage against a Hermitage la Chapelle from a good but not great vintage.