In 2016, “Big Sam” Allardyce, with his blue-collar charm and Meatloaf-ish looks, was supposed to be the England national soccer team’s everyman hero — a player’s manager straight from central casting, finally fit to lead the “Three Lions” on to ultimate victory since god knows when. But after only one match and two months at the helm, the lunch pail gaffer got himself quagmired in a sting scandal orchestrated by The Telegraph, caught on tape advising on how to illicitly rig player transfers. And while a crushing blow to England’s pride, there was something odd about the accompanying undercover video that set the internet into a frenzy.
In it, Allardyce appears to be quaffing — wait for it — a full imperial pint of wine.
Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Honestly, it was probably just some flattish suds. But in the shadow of a notorious Brexit vote just a couple months prior, Conservative Tory hearts soared at such a distinctly British idea. “F*ck those froggy little stem glasses. We drink our wine by the pint!”
Fast-forward to December 2023. A new reality had emerged, with U.K. trade slumping, small businesses suffering, and hindsight support for Brexit in the gutter. But after countless unfulfilled promises and missed targets, Brexiteers — desperate to save their grand fantasy now mired in the swamp of an inconvenient reality — finally had an ace to play.
Pint bottles of wine.
Now unburdened by the “tyrannical” alcohol bottling standards of Europe, the United Kingdom government, in a gesture capitalizing on Brexit’s “new freedoms,” trumpeted the triumphant return of literal pint-sized bottles of wine. According to the ever-shrinking ranks of Brexiteers, it’s yet another “great benefit” of the divorce; a Union Jack vested symbol of glorious Britishness.
But will anyone actually buy these mythical, imperial-pinted Tory trophies when they theoretically return to British shelves? (Supposedly this September, though in reality it’s anyone’s guess.) And by extension, can any producers find it worthwhile to pony up for this dubious demand of the market? When the time comes to fork over the cash, who wants to pay a premium of their hard-earned money for the novelty of a pint bottle of wine over more economically advantageous 750-, 500-, or 375-milliliter standard bottles?
It seems a complete waste of time at first. A total dead end. Or is it?
Pints, Promises, and Politicians
Veteran U.K. wine journalist Julie Sheppard doesn’t mince words in her overall evaluation of Brexit and its outcome for the U.K. wine industry. “Brexit has been hugely damaging,” she says. “For some smaller wine producers, the amount of red tape and changes in import duties and tax systems has meant that it’s no longer viable for them to export to the U.K.” The situation has become a daily nightmare for those in the trade, including journalists and wine publications. “Even sending samples for tastings and competitions has become prohibitively expensive for many, with wine shipments getting lost or delayed in customs — even now, four years later,” she adds.
It’s the inevitable result of false promises and inedible carrots dangling in front of a riled-up public; something that sounds great in theory to a certain demographic, but has little to no value — and likely negative value — in the real world. “It’s a political gesture … designed to appeal to a sector of voters who hanker back to the ‘good old days’ of imperial measures,” says Sheppard. “It’s not a reflection of the realities of modern Britain: its population, values, or modern lifestyles.”
“It would involve a huge and costly shift in production in terms of sourcing not only bottles, but also bottling lines and packaging.”
The scathing review is seconded by James Simpson, managing director for the Pol Roger Portfolio in the U.K. — though the pilot of the revered Champagne house’s import operation cures his Brexit hangover with a contrasting dose of tried-and-true British humor. “To be frank about it, it was a bit of a joke,” he says of his original advocacy to revive the imperial pint format. “I thought, we could bring back the pint bottle and have a bit of fun with this.” But what was originally conceived as a gimmicky bit of glass for shits and giggles took on a life of its own. “We caught the press imagination at the time,” Simpson says. “The Sun was convinced we were bringing them back tomorrow.”
However, as so often is the case, there’s a devil lurking in the details: the excessive cost, time, and logistics of producing a new line of imperial pint wine bottles.
“It would involve a huge and costly shift in production in terms of sourcing not only bottles, but also bottling lines and packaging,” says Sheppard. It’s a concept that every winery bean counter would loathe, and appears to be an absolute money pit unless legitimate strong demand miraculously materializes from nowhere.
On the surface, with the data at hand so far, the idea of wine pints returning seems like utter folly. Sheppard’s insight should put the final nail in the coffin.
But there’s more to the story than just a peculiar volume of liquid and the exorbitant cost involved. There’s history, pride, and precedent. And for that, one needs only to gaze toward the storied Winston Churchill to appreciate the appeal.
The hero-statesman of World War II was, by all accounts and to say the least, quite the prolific boozer. And perhaps his favorite pour over the years? Champagne. And not just any Champagne. Pint bottles of Pol Roger.
The highly regarded French bubbly house sold the format for about a century in the U.K., and indeed, it wasn’t the only one. Many wine producers catered to those thirsty Brits across the Channel with grapey pints. The U.K. market had long been the cornerstone of French wine exports, and capitalizing further with customary pint bottles was only natural at the time. The tradition ultimately met the chopping block, however, axed by the official 1973 conversion to metric measurements for wine and spirits on the island.
Yet Pol Roger, eager to brandish its relationship with Churchill — and therefore endearing itself to the U.K. market as the most British of French bubbly — has kept the nostalgia burning over the years. So maybe, just maybe, there’s a potential marketing diamond buried somewhere in the bog.
Why the Wine Pint Joke Might Just Work
Still wine in half-liter format is already a legal bottle size in both the E.U. and the U.K. — and the glass for said flat stuff is readily and actively produced — thereby making a 568-milliliter imperial pint-sized bottle ridiculously redundant and inherently devoid of demand. Case closed and idea abandoned for still wine. But what about 500-milliliter bubbly?
Champagne bottles must be produced specifically to conform to the needs of sparkling wine closures and high pressures. But half-liter bubbly bottles are a regulatory no-no in Europe, so no one is producing 500-milliliter bubbly glass. And ever since the U.K. metric conversion of 1973 for wine and spirits came to pass, 568-milliliter imperial pint production of bubbly bottles has gone the way of the dodo entirely.
“You have a brand new English sparkling wine industry in need of a thing, and the imperial pint bottle could be it!”
So, if one can actually scrounge up a legitimate reason and potential return on investment to restart this bespoke glass production, why not just go ahead and fire up a custom line of imperial pint bottles for bubbly in the U.K.? After all, the 500-ish general size range is currently unavailable to devotees of fine fizz.
“Call the pint bottle of sparkling wine a Churchill,” says Simpson. A brilliant thought.
By leveraging a legend, Pol Roger might be able to avoid losing money on the concept. That’s likely the best case scenario for even a distinctively British-linked Champagne house to go it alone on wine pints, and the rest of Pol Roger’s competitors in Champagne have little to no desire to share the burden and risk financial loss in the proprietary scheme.
But what about doubling down on the nationalistic appeal?
Through increased investment, broadening experience, and greater exposure — along with an ironic helping hand from a warming climate sunning its ideally chalky soils — English bubby looks well positioned to rival Champagne in the coming decades. And from Simpson’s perspective, if the entire lot of English bubbly producers can go in together on bespoke pint-size glass costs, it could be the perfect opportunity to finally realize a long-pursued marketing hook for English sparkling wine, all while capturing some surprising profit from the Brexit joke.
“You have a brand new English sparkling wine industry in need of a thing,” says Simpson, “and the imperial pint bottle could be it!”
The novelty of English sparkling wine purchased in pint form may work out as a proudly British pour after all. Hell, I’m an American, who upon reading the news, condescendingly mocked the idea of Brexit wine pint bottles returning. Normally, it’d be a ridiculous proposal.
But the thought of ordering an imperial pint bottle, of excellent English fizz, at a London restaurant? Done. Sold. Take my money. Bob’s your uncle. God save the king!
In an odd twist of fate, for a lucky few, the laughable Brexit consolation prize has an outside chance at being an elusive golden ticket.
