I think I suffer from ADD, OCD and obsessive displacement activity combined. Or perhaps I’m just a man. Whichever, I have been mesmerised for months by the wine samples building up in my office. When I could barely get to my desk, I packed them in the car and took them home to hold a one-man tasting in the kitchen on a Monday morning, my day off from The Sunday Times.

“Why are both fridges full of bottles?” asked my daughter accusingly. She should have seen the shed.

Mondays are always the same. I make lists of must-dos on Sunday night, I get up and read the lists, and suddenly it’s 4pm and the children are on the way home from school. This Monday was going to be different. I made the beds, I fed the rabbit, I did the dirty clothes and dishes, I opened the fridges and the shed.

I counted the bottles: 92. It took half an hour to get them onto the kitchen table in neat lines. Where to begin? How about those with funny labels? One with cat’s eyes. A shotgun-toting woman. A pretty one with dogs’ paw prints on the screw cap.

Sipping raw young wine (and spitting in the sink) is hungry work. Lunch. Damn, the knob fell off the cooker again. Must do something about it. Now, or before we know it Vat will have gone back up.

And so it was that, at 3pm, I was 50 miles away, looking at the only display model in the whole of Britain of the wildly rare new cooker we want. And that, at 5pm, I was back home trying to cook the children’s dinner in the knobless oven. And that, at 7pm, my daughter gave me another glare as she sat down to eat with her friend at a table covered in bottles. And that, at 8pm, the Ocado man arrived. And that, at 8.03pm, a bottle of lavatory cleaner in an Ocado bag leaked down my blue trouser leg, turning it pink. And that, at 8.03pm and 2 seconds, I kicked the bag across the kitchen and took a big swig of dog-paw red. And that, at 8.04pm, my wife came home and asked me why the house smelt funny, why my teeth were black and shouldn’t I stop swearing? And that, today, I have only three wines to write about, each with a silly label.

LIQUID HUNCHES

Le Dog Merlot (£5.49) Decanting will restore its senses (Morrisons).

Ladies Who Shoot Their Lunch Chardonnay 2008 (£13.99) Bonkers but tasty (Naked Wines; nakedwines.com).

Boycat Merlot 2008 (£9.99) Not silly — delicious (Marks & Spencer).

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