SINCE QUITE some time, I have noticed quite a battle for wine supremacy. No, I am not talking about some classic feud, such as France trying to claim it has always made better wines than Italy, or something involving a controversial and touchy topic like that of Champagne and how it did or didn’t need German intervention to get its act together. In fact, this wine war is not even remotely as eye-opening and spectacular as the Old and New World competition, which was first juxtaposed by Steven Spurrier in the mid 70s (PS: New World California won, much to the chagrin of Old World French). This, ladies and gennelmen, is the petty pet peeve of wine drinkers, not imbibers like you and me, but consumers from a different stratosphere, each of whom try to out-wine each other with something more unique and more expensive (not to mention, also more ridiculous) than what has previously occupied the spot as the find of the century.

These are people who wouldn’t pull out their corkscrew for duty-free buys, let alone supermarket trash. Nothing less than a 100 point wine will do (99 is for amateurs and 98 to wash your car with). Anything lesser is brandy-starter. They measure what they drink. But unfortunately, there exists no chart to measure their prowess. I mean, how will people on the streets know that you pulled out a Mouton ‘61 for dinner yesterday, a bottle so rare that even the Late Count Rothschild looked up from his grave for a second glimpse? Just because today you are drinking a 40-year-old wine doesn’t mean that people assume you to be only into young wines. An awesome wine lover is what you are, but people must know, otherwise what’s the point? Without further ado then, I present you the wine quotient (WQ). This will be a number with no upward limit and will be used to measure just how much you really love wine—more for the benefit of others than for the silly notion of drinking wine just for personal enjoyment—like Klout for your social wine circles. Here is how to gain points and, then, how to lose some.

Upping the wine quotient:
* Only 100 point wines. A 99-pointer will be admissible if no vintage from the last century scored a 100, or have all been consumed.
* Must possess at least 10 wines from your grandpa’s birth year. Someone else’s grandfather will do, too, as long as he is/was older.
* You must be known in at least two cities and by three international hotel chains for fussing over glassware. At home, use nothing less than personalised stemware with your initials laser-etched on to the sides.
* Decant everything, even water, but never be satisfied, so go ahead and double-decant it.
* When talking about wines, never use the full name, just a part of the vineyard’s name or the owner’s first name. To be on a first-name basis is crucial to having a high WQ.
* Remember all the wines you have had, especially the ones you haven’t. But more than their taste, always remember the exact rainfall and date of harvest for that given vintage. That is what wine lovers are really impressed by. Taste is for novices and memories, urrrrgh, for sissies!
* Repeat.

Committing any of these will lower your WQ:
* Serving a wine from your birth year.
* Owning wines from a winery that sells them through anywhere else other than the cellar door or at auctions.
* Drinking a wine that has more than a dozen bottles existing in the world.
* Liking a wine on first sip served to you by someone else without first enquiring everything about it. Using terms like ‘yummy’ or ‘wow’ could get you debarred from the WQ cult forever.
* Not having a reasonable and detailed explanation, as to why you mistook the French Pinot Noir in your glass for Argentinean Malbec or Aussie Shiraz.
* Drinking rosé wine or any sparkling wine that isn’t vintage grower’s Champagne.
* Sounding encouraging to someone who doesn’t drink wine but because of you converts to it.

These basic tenets are crucial to establish and grow the WQ tribe. Award 10 points for all the dos and subtract 5 for the don’ts. When you have no friends left, but only smug social muppets waiting around to mooch expensive wine off you, you will know you have truly arrived. Welcome to nowhere. Population: you.

The writer is a sommelier