Richards Wild Irish Rose White
Today’s Mistake: Richards Wild Irish Rose White. The official wine of unemployment.
17% alcohol by volume
187 ml flask
Of all the horrid, putrid muck I’ve consumed in my life, bum wines always hurt the most. It seems I haven’t the intestinal fortitude to withstand grape wine. In fact, in the old Daily Blackout, I nearly had an existential breakdown after drinking too much Night Train. We’re talking serious emotional and physical trauma, and nearly three years after, I still wake up in the early hours of the morning, drenched in cold sweat and shaking. Such is the unbearable, life-altering power of bum wine. As you can probably tell, I ain’t exactly thrilled to be drinking this flask of Wild Irish Rose. In fact, I’m seriously freaking out about it. The packaging doesn’t help, each seemingly innocuous bit of text on the front a warning sign: SERVE COLD, GRAPE WINE WITH CITRUS SPIRITS, 187 ML. Yes, 187, like the one Snoop & Dre warned me about. And why the hell did they need to add citrus spirits to the mix? 100% shitty grape wine isn’t enough? My only hope is that it’s so ungodly cold that it freezes my throat and kills me before I can taste it, or worse, before my stomach rebels against its idiotic and borderline insane owner.
Now, I’ve never peed in a small flask bottle, but I imagine it would look exactly like our Wild Irish amigo here. Well hydrated, but with enough of a yellow tinge. There’s no mistaking this for anything other than white bum wine or urine.
Someone very sick and very evil thought this up. No human being should have to drink this. I think it might be worse than Night Train, or at least just as bad. As is tradition, I will finish the entire thing, but THANK GOD there aren’t 188 milliliters in here. I wouldn’t make it.
I’m not sure if it’s possible for a beverage to feel “sad” in one’s mouth, but that’s what ran through my mind.
I suppose, to keep costs down, the frugal bastards at Richards decided to eschew any sort of clever or interesting design elements, opting instead for something nondescript and easily smashed behind a dumpster in a grocery store parking lot.
Well, it is cheap. Way to go Wild Irish Rose! Now back to the fiery hell that spawned you.
I mean, you really ought to avoid this if possible. Since you’re reading this from a computer or similar internet-enabled device, it’s a safe assumption that you also own pants, which essentially precludes you from ever having to buy it in the first place. 1 out of a possible 5.