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.

We seemed to agree on a hot / sweet flavours here – honey petals (?), spicy cayenne, raisins & bananas, breakfast Weetabix, tart tatin, and deception.

Apricots are squabbling with the ripe bananas while the fruit salad looks on in horror at the remains of the raspberry dripping off the blades of a blender. You can almost literally smell the unmistakable smell of the brains of one of the Californian raisins from the adverts...

Intensity-wise, it's a spirited kick up the goolies and a spicy punch in the nose (schnozbob) - a double-dose of white wine and then a sprinkle of garlic.

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.

Someone’s on the Grapa instead (there’s always one) - bet you it’s the one smelling the 15-19 year old girls perfume and exclaiming ‘You've got nice cornicing’..... hello!

We're saying medium, but on the short side like Steffi Graf serving on a 15 mile tennis court. It's spicy or maybe popping candy as it dissipates, the sweetness of marshmallows sneaking in towards the end.

Those savoury thoughts expand out to mid-Century Scandinavian rosewood unpolished furniture, the feeling of a recently blown out match on the tongue and an olive oily texture (no, we weren't drunk, promise.).

With the first taste the sea rushes up and smacks you in the palate, bam! The salty taste is like a cheeky lick of a dolphin or a freshly landed Arbroath Smokie.

As these balance the Lion roars and there's an explosion of spice with paprika, chili and pepper combining with the cream to hint at horseradish. As everything dies down we're left statuesque with a sharp tang of orange peel and rocket as the battle continues.

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.

The sweetness on the nose came back to haunt us like a J-horror spirit-child slipping on honey and falling head first into a banoffee pie (in a scary way).

The tastes on the finish mostly strayed towards the savoury end of the palate, with mild chili pepper, cinnamon, taco spice, salted peanuts and sun-dried tomatoes. Sherbert and melon came along to the party in the mouth, but no one could remember if they were invited - they ...

Once popped in the mouth, this was instantly delicate (like a flower in a cyclone) and it was generally agreed water would totally overpower it (like the resulting storm surge), and it was nicely described as "the opposite of wasabi".

But, oh no! What's this? It's only Inappropriate Culturally-mis-matching Pudding Man! "I see you're enjoying a nice Japanese bath! Here, have some crème caramel and Christmas pudding, you idiot!". He then faded into the steamy evening, with only the slowly receding clip-clop...

A Hungarian walks out of a smokey yurt having eaten a goulash (peppery and paprika), through the mossy earth and plunges into a dodgy lagoon full of snakes and crabs

In a mad combo of food, emotions, sacrificial techniques and poor fire control, it was also described as: smoked cheese, emptiness, immolation, oversmoked and citrus toast.

It depends on how you like your sailors but this one had been out at sea for at least 40 days and was starting to absorb the aromas of the remaining fermenting bananas and gooseberries.

Oh dear. I think things got a bit out of hand... Apparently tastes include SPUNK (jizz), PR@WNS!!!, the lack of fish and 'like standing on the side of the road under the Botswana sun waiting for a car that will never come'.

That creaminess gives way to a wee spiciness expressed by chili, chili jam and cloves whilst a fruity stalker creeps in butt-naked, coated in elderflower cordial, raisins and grapes (to hide any embarrassment).

Things get more exciting as our tongues prickle with paprika and popping candy as, the sweetness over, lime pickle squeezes the mouth and English mustard washes like rainwater over this slightly salty ending.

We seem to have got pretty brand-focused smelling this, think we sent our corporate wing over by mistake: good varnish (like Ronseal), polycement, dried coriander, rubbish Turps, metal, Toffiffees, Chewits, OWLS, Playdough.

Things get pretty savoury - toast with English mustard, watercress, paprika, raw onion and crisp-baked tatties. The leather on the nose expands into fusty linen, rubber and cowboy boots.

Before battle, the two teams feast on sweet treats of honey, Cointreau, honeycomb, molasses and Crunchie bars. Once the fighting is over, the wounds are carefully washed with a little rose water and patched up with some plasters... who knows who the victor was, it's a fictio...

It's like waking up to some horrific morning after a party - a salty Ginster's pasty, charcoal, post vomit mouthwash, Andrew's salts, flat coke and something undefinable mushy and unpleasant.

Coriander and over cooked cabbage mingle with a definite ‘Iron’ smell of blood – raw black pudding to be exact. Perhaps a wee bit feisty like Atomic fire balls or even ‘Hepatitis E’.