Dear HR department,

I write to you for the third time in as many weeks about the same employee. Yesterday afternoon, Kevin Fullerton entered The List office dressed as Santa Claus, carrying a giant brown sack and insisting on giving gifts to every ‘boy and girl’ (his words). This may have been regarded as quirky fun had he not shown up five hours late, with the excuse that ‘a Santa costume is really difficult to source in autumn’. Interrupting a high-priority meeting, the ‘A-list celebrity drinks journalist and world-famous influencer’ (definitely his words) emptied his ‘bulging sack’ onto the floor and began doling out a variety of bottles and tins to co-workers. 

He proceeded to brandish Woven Whisky (£45, 70cl) at the depressed middle-aged man we keep on staff out of pity, pouring him a glass before shouting ‘HO HO HO’ at the top of his lungs and insisting ‘isn’t this hilarious?’ to the silent room. Our middle-aged man (I forget his name) later told me this was clearly an expert blend, both low on burn and smooth on the palate. I admit the bottle of this Leith-based whisky looked sleek and modern, appropriately championing a fresh-faced generation of distillers. Our middle-aged man took it home and, he confessed with a smile, cradled it in bed; he’s not been the same since Martha left. 

Now drenched in sweat, Kevin ran towards our young intern, who appeared to be crying, and lobbed a bottle of Pentire Coastal Spritz (£27.80, 70cl) towards her, which she caught in what looked like a blind panic. ‘Nice catch,’ he shouted while her nervous sobs grew louder. ‘Honestly, this is a great day.’ He poured her a glass of the non-alcoholic botanical spirit and she seemed impressed by its rich blood-orange overtones and sharp tang. No one could claim it packs the punch of a boozy mix, but Pentire did have the same complexity and mouthfeel of a premium bottle of cask-aged gin. 

After handing out signed photographs of himself to a nonplussed cleaning lady, Kevin approached our resident salesperson and whipped out a Café Solo Original Coffee Liqueur (£30, 70cl) from his sack. He then (and we were all surprised by this) expertly mixed it with espresso coffee and vodka with an almost alarming proficiency. We would have been impressed, and maybe even forgiven him for this desperate display, had he not repeatedly claimed, ‘I’m exactly like Tom Cruise in Cocktail. Maybe even more handsome, eh?’ Despite this, we found the liqueur complemented a finely balanced Espresso Martini, strong enough to be satisfying and delicate enough to never overpower the whole. 

With that, Kevin bellowed ‘my heart has grown three sizes today’ and fled the office. He was here for 55 minutes, during which time he produced no work whatsoever. I request that he be fired with immediate effect. 

Yours sincerely,
Employee X, 
The List HQ.