David Elliott: Best drinks for Christmas parties

Remember, at Christmas parties, people will judge you on what you drink and pigeonhole you into some obscure demographic category based on your choice of poison, writes David Elliott.

Fellas, I’ve seen your diaries (but don’t worry, I’m the very definition of ­discreet) and I note that you’ve got a whole lot of Christmas parties lined up over the next month.

Great! Just remember that people will judge you on what you drink and pigeonhole you into some obscure demographic category based on your choice of poison.

Here’s the reputational risk:

Victoria Bitter

He’s either a tradie or a Bankstown Boy made good, who can’t let go of his working-class credentials. I get it.

The VB drinker will be boasting about how good the Bulldogs/Eels/Panfers will play next year and offer up takeaway dining suggestions for your upcoming Wollongong holiday.

Unless he’s come straight from the job site, he’s wearing thongs to your Christmas soiree, but don’t be alarmed because I’m probably related to him and can vouch for his “salt-of-the-earth” credentials. Be nice.

The Victoria Bitter drinker means well but will probably wear thongs to the party. Picture: Floss Adams

Chardonnay

OK, so here’s the thing. That “makes good” bloke has finished his VB heart-starter and is now comfortable enough to display his metro­sexual persona by way of ordering a crisp dry chardy in front of you.

Don’t judge him, because it’s been a long journey and he won’t care that you accuse him of being a class traitor anyway. Just be grateful he isn’t yet reduced to ordering a Fluffy Duck.

Rakija

Unless your fellow partygoer was born in the Balkans, this guest is drinking under duress. Discreetly ­approach them and ask them to blink their eyes twice if they are being forced to inhale this drink, which under normal circumstances, is used to warm up Santa’s sleigh over the course of his northern hemisphere sub-zero toy run.

Do not, under any circumstances, remain at the party when you notice that more than half the rakija bottle has been emptied. That’s how wars are started.

Champagne

Now you’re in my town! What’s a Christmas party without a glass of bubbles to set the right mood?

Whether you’re at home, work or even charming the bride’s delightful girlfriends while waiting for her to get to the gathering, this is the “go to” drink for any Svengali.

Or so I’m told.

Champagne has deep symbolic meaning at any celebration and should be treated with the same ­respect as David Jones mince pies and Costi seafood.

Remember, it’s important to treat yourself.

Champagne is THE celebratory drink. Picture: Nikki Short

Mulled wine

If you’re drinking this, the host was most likely born in the UK, so just check that they know in Australia it’s important to bathe in the months leading up to Christmas.

I never saw the appeal of this drink and have been known to leave a party early when it’s the only thing on offer.

Make an excuse, leave the celebration and head straight to church to offer a prayer of thanksgiving that your great grandfather was a criminal and had to be transported to this fine country and far away from that ­gruelling beverage.

Martini

Well, well, well. Aren’t we the lucky invitee? If “mein host” is circulating vodka martinis to all the guests, you’ve clearly made it into polite society.

Yes, you may have to endure hours of conversation about share prices and the cost of servicing a BMW Seven ­Series, but these are the sacrifices our soldiers died for.

Even though there is no documented link between the birth of the baby Jesus in the Holy Land and a dry ­martini, you can justify this choice of drink by highlighting the symbolism of the olive in both settings.

If scotch is on the bar menu, you’re most likely partying with middle aged men.

Scotch

The party you’re at was only put on because the host is a middle-aged bloke in business and has a truckload of other middle-aged blokes as clients, who didn’t know what to buy him so they had a case of Johnnie Walker ­delivered to his office.

Either that, or the host is a cop.

This party is a sleeper. Don’t leave too early because you can bet London to a brick these blokes are on the verge of ordering strippers and pizzas to ­celebrate the end of a year that they never thought they would survive given what the cardiologist said last June. Rock on.

Rose

Dude! You’re at a party for chicks. Go home before they start making you sing along to Mariah Carey songs.

Rum punch

You’re safe now. This is the ideal Yuletide brew and will make you feel more festive than a dancing reindeer.

Nothing ever bad can happen when you’re sipping Lady Elliott’s homemade rum punch. It drips of goodwill and even makes Great Aunty Irene look somewhat kissable, which is why you should set a limit.

Pour yourself a long glass, sit back and take in the Michael Buble tunes playing in the background because ­tomorrow you will be required to do it all over again.