Raise a glass to the age-old charm of port

When Christmas comes, there are few guilt-free pleasures that match the sheer wonder of port (aside from re-watching Dr Strangelove in the wee hours on BBC2). Sweeter than a mince pie and more intoxicating than a pre-Christmas visit to your GP’s waiting room, a glass of port is guaranteed to lift your spirits. And by the time you’re onto your third, if you’re lucky, you should feel so elevated that either you’re on cloud nine or fast approaching it.

It’s like the 18th century in a bottle – but the good parts of it, not the pox, the rotting teeth or gangrene

That’s the joy of port. For more than 300 years, Britons have been devotees of this very special outpouring of Portugal’s Douro Valley. Empires have come and gone, monarchies have usurped and been usurped, ideologies have swept the face of the world. Yet port has survived. Not just that, but it continues to deliver some of the most savage and particular hangovers known to mankind, thanks to its seductive strength and its slippery ease of consumption.