On the way, a whale has carelessly left its blubber to filter up the nose, perhaps helping to fertilise the landscape, as first nettles and then geraniums flourish.

The nosings spread out a little bit into a plethora of nature's best offerings: plants and herbs (oniony fennel, coriander leaves, licorice and coffee), more tangy offerings (orange zest, aniseed, paprika and pepper) and some nice locations (a pebble beach with a fire, The W...

Quite a pungent nose, and almost disconcerting. Lemon, apricot and (baked) apple make up the fruity contigent as heather grows on the sidelines, plotting. Lots of talks about Clan Chiefs and the history of Scotland, for some reason.

The length seems somewhat hard to pin down, somewhere between being inside the 6-yard box to lost in the opposition half - most agree it's medium. The aftertaste brings a fair bit of salt, with much more fruit than before: melon, sour apples, lemon and aniseed.

The outdoor picnic continues – not sure if there is enough food to go round but glad everyone remembered to bring their herbs and seasoning: plenty of black pepper, rosemary, thyme and fresh peppermint.

A little heavy on dessert but we'll catch a salty mackerel and sit on summer straw bails to eat it before washing with coal tar soap.

Islay isn't particularly famous for its cake, but that might be as they've put all their useful ingredients into the nose of this peaty offering: cinnamon, prunes, lots of marzipan, almonds, vanilla, apples and Christmas itself.

Then chili, cloves and lots of wasabi hit with some salt (from the South China Sea as well as good ol' rocks) and salted whale blubber (for research purposes only) as well as the feeling of internal public space.

First sip makes a big impression; this isn't just smoky, it's a forest in flames, a peaty explosion. Sugar and salt tickle the palate in delicious combinations, smoky bacon with maple syrup, toffee apples, honey-roasted nuts and sweet and sour pork.

Give it a little while, and you’ll start to discern something approximating the smoky flavours of your usual Lagavulin - barbequed pork-steak and Frazzles bacon-flavoured crisps. Smooth it might be, but balanced to the point of obscurity.

The aromas wafted to the cafe next door where weekend brunchers were deciding on raspberry jam, burnt orange marmalade or honey (specifically Futurama space bee honey) to drizzle on their hot crumpets

There's also a vivacious tang coming through, best described by the presence of ginger, vinegar and - sticking it all together - some blue tac.

McNulty from The Wire's guilt and the salt of the sweat of the Taoiseach before a general election. And finishing the whole thing of are perhaps the less-desirable flavours of melted plastic, yellow snow and oil.