There is only one way a person could come to buy Scapegrace’s Pomegranate and Doris Plum RTDs: fresh from an exhausting day of abusing retail workers and making disapproving noises about the homeless, your average Scapegrace consumer is in much need of refreshment. Getting home and realising their Auckland mansion is without beverages, they dispatch their manservant to fetch them a refreshing and ready-made drink mixture of the highest quality from a nearby liquor establishment.
Terrified of receiving his 5th cigar burn of the week, the manservant is eager to impress. He goes to a liquor store and selects the Scapegrace RTDs because they look the least likely to be considered a poor person’s drink by his master. Believing, mistakenly, that such a fancy looking RTD is of high quality, the manservant returns to the mansion.
He pours the Scapegrace drink into a bejewelled chalice and serves it to his master. Disgusted, his master spits out the drink and, in a rage, sets the hounds upon the unfortunate manservant. The master then tosses the remainder of the drinks along with the manservant’s corpse into the Auckland Harbour.
Apparently, this obscure series of events happens often enough that Scapegrace can make some sales. But it turns out that this is quite an unsustainable business model, even for an RTD business. So, to cut costs even further, Scapegrace are being stingier than a club bartender by making each can only 5 percent ABV. Then again, perhaps it makes sense that they are such low alcohol because the only people who are rich enough to afford Scapegrace RTDs are the same people who need to be careful with their drinking lest they ‘accidentally’ post a racist tirade on social media.
It is truly unfortunate that the upper-class RTD market is in such a sad state that their drinks taste like a mixture of body wash and toilet water. Scapegraces are a drink for people with far more money than sense, but worry not, friend, they will instead find comfort in actively harassing customer service providers, buying overpriced furniture and calling the cops on brown people.
Tasting notes: Hints of body wash.
Froth level: A 10,000-dollar couch.
Tastes like: The jungle juice at the bottom of your fridge.
Overall rating: 3/10, pretentious.