I Went Into a Shop...

Last summer, my mother and I wandered into Selfridges, which, for those blissfully unaware, is a high-end department store stuffed to the rafters with the filthy rich. We found ourselves drawn to the food and drink department, and from there navigated our way into a corner filled with whisky of every variety. It was lined by two rows of shelves with all the familiar names and then some: the colours ranging from deep oak to light caramel and the price tags ranging from the reasonable to the eye-popping.

However, those shelves converged on an ornate wooden cabinet, with glass doors that went as high as the double-decker buses chugging away outside. And then we realised that the price tags on the shelves were just the warm-up.

So, we decided to play a game. What did we think would be the most expensive whisky here? We both knew that prices could climb into the thousands, hundreds and thousands, and millions, but surely those were all weird private auctions, not unlike that of Get Out and Uncut Gems? Right?