Some time ago, I found myself sitting next to a woman at a dinner who was drinking a great deal of wine, the effects of which were clearly begining to show. Having knocked off one bottle, she ordered another and started quaffing that with undiminished enthusiasm.
I had ordered a glass of wine and had long since drained the dregs; noticing my empty glass my dining companion offered to top me up from her bottle.
"Well, thank you," I said politely.
"Itshavery good wine..." she said with that slow precision of speech that is demanded of those who are pissed!
I took a sip and agreed.
"An whatch shmore," she said, "itch stotally non-halco-holic!"
"Really?" I said, somewhat surprised.
"Oh, yesh!" she said, "but musht look for the bottlesh with the schpecial shymbol..."
She seized the bottle by the neck and indicated the relevant symbol on the back label...
"Yesh," she said, "Thatsh how you know, an' if thish shymbol shnot there then you musht be very caushous about how musch you drink!"