writer’s block”. His name is Mr Johnnie Walker.

Whisky, gambling and Ferraris are better than housework.

The light music of whisky falling into glasses made an agreeable interlude.

After all, Christmastide is the time of year for warming brandies, for assertive burgundies and meaty Medoc wines, and for gladsome whiskies. And an Islay malt: well, this is the octave of St Andrew, and...

We cannot buy it. We are too poor. Then men who have made the law have taken our own drink from us, and have not left us wherewith to buy it. Yet they can buy...

Superficially my war was a comfortable exercise in futility carried out in a grand Scottish hotel amongst the bridge players and swillers of easy-come-by whisky. My chest got me out of active service and into...

All You Need Is Love” in homage to their memory.

Scotch whisky is made from barley and the morning dew on angel’s nipples.

He tasted of whisky and his skin was rough where he hadn’t shaved, but Mirabelle kissed him back.

My life is ruled by four W’s: my writing, my work, my wife, and my whisky. Not necessarily in that order.

While I can’t walk on water, I can certainly wobble on whisky.