We at The Spectator drink a lot of Pol Roger Champagne. It’s more or less the house pour. Not every day you understand, just on high days and holidays such as the Spectator summer party, from which more than a few of us are still recovering.
And I must say that when standing like a vertical sardine in the crush of said party, stuck fast between a resolute Remainer and a wild-eyed Brexiteer, both about to kick off, there is nothing more heartening than the sight of the familiar white-foil bottle.
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