Goode ham and worts
Gooderham and worts: poo detective
Deen was travelling in a freshly commandeered car, cruising down long desolate stretches of road, driving through town after town. He passed through chippawa, a place he was told was a funny little town.
Aside from having 12 bars, 4 churches, a few dilapidated buildings, a mosque and a population of fewer than 5,000 he didn’t notice anything too humorous. Passing down a long stretch of road, deens eyes started to dim, so he pulled over to catch a little shut eye.
He pulled up in front of a nice house with a big yard and noticed a dad teaching his young son how to drive a self propelled lawn mower. The setting was serene; a white picket fence, a lady in a sun hat next to the pool with her teacup dog, a pond in the back yard. the boy did as he was shown and hit the lever to drop the blades, but unexpectedly pushed the mower into gear, which pushed forward a couple inches. The dad braced himself with his hands on the hood of the mower, wiping a cold sweat off his brow. He told the boy to push the other lever, but the boy was frustrated and smashed his foot on the lever out of confusion. The mower shoved forward and knocked the father down. The father yelled back to ‘pull up’ on the lever, to put it back in neutral. The boy, nervous and frightened fiddled with the gear shift, setting the mower into second gear, pushing the mower further, gobbling up the fathers feet.
The first screams came from the man as he wrestled desperately to push the mower off his body; it was no use as it slowly crept up, shredding away inch after inch of foot, ankle, shin. Spattered chunks of reebok running shoes were flying out the ejector, bloody tatters of socks, jeans, flesh and freshly mowed grass.
The boy, frightened stiff hung on to the steering wheel, staring in silent paralysis and disbelief, looking over the hood of the green tractor, into his fathers eyes, witnessing his horror first hand. The mower kept creeping up the mans body, chewing up his thighs and groin, spitting them out in a tattered bloody mess on the shaggy grass. The man underneath was no longer yelling, but rather gurgling and tremoring as the mower ground to a halt; it would seem the blade became stuck trying to grind the mans hips. The mower sat still.
Deen stared out the side window as he watched a black and white car whip beside his truck and skid onto the grass. One tall mustachioed man sporting a badge that read ‘worts’ jumped out of the car with pistol drawn and fired five rounds into the engine block of the mower, which spit out black smoke and sputtered while the young boy clung to the steering wheel, staring at his father, whose face was twisted in agony the way he shook in convulsion before he emptied his torso and entrails on the ground. Another man wearing a badge that stated ‘Gooderham’ stepped out the drivers side of the black car and looked at the man wielding the smoking pistol.
‘you missed the kid.’ Detective gooderham said.
Deen tapped a hoof on the side of the truck as he drove away chuckling to himself. ‘this IS a funny little town’ deen thought as he drove away.
In conclusion, detective gene worts missed the kid. Did gooderham and worts whisky miss their mark as well?
Pretty unique in presentation. A tall, round circular bottle, how a whisky bottle should look. No squares, no globes, just a tall, masculine, hefty bottle with a rounded base at the bottom. The label is an off white circle, plastered with dry brown writing. It states the name of the bottle, advertises four grains inside and a picture of the old g & w distillery. The text on the bottle is lifted to give some texture to the bottle.
Tight wiffs of oak and cedar, with brown baking spices and a little dill poking through. Dry, dusty grain.
Tight, dry, mute and crisp. Full of aggressive charred wood barrel effects, some golden fruits, red berries and pith. Rye spice and robust dill seem to battle for domination and is backed with a syrupy sweet finish. This refuses to open with air alone.
This is a tight offering which needs just a touch of water to really reach its potential. It takes a while to grow on a taster, and this is not for the first timer.
This is yet another offering from the wisers house, known as corbys. The master blender has been busy shoving out release after release and is making a big splash in Canada for releasing winners everytime.
This blend in particular averages around 10 years of age and is filled with some very old whisky and balanced with very young wheat whisky, to add complexity. The four grains used are corn, rye, barley and wheat.