‘The Turnbull’ is the latest from the Australian blend of liberal and national varieties. The label suggests a very different wine to the previous vintage ‘The Abbott’ which was a straight forward, 15% plus wine guaranteed to ‘shirt-front’ drinkers, leaving them wondering what made them buy it in the first place. There was always too much Credlin in it for me.

But back to ‘The Turnbull’, according to the label, while not organic, it has been ‘made with the environment in mind’. Whatever that means. The alcohol claims to be 13%, an improvement on its predecessor, but when you swirl it around in the glass, the legs suggest it’s at least 14.5%. In fact it looks, smells and tastes a lot like ‘The Abbott’.

The biggest difference between the two wines is the design of their labels. ‘The Abbott’ looked like it something out of a 1950’s cellar, designed by Arthur Calwell and approved by the Vatican.

Clearly a skilled graphic designer is behind ‘The Turnbull’; it’s contemporary and elegant and would be very much at home in the bars of Eastern Sydney. At the same time, it wouldn’t be out of place in The Rooty Hill RSL. It claims to go well with everything from Asian food to French Cheese.

‘The Shorten’ is a Labor wine and seems equally determined to be seen as different to previous vintages neither of which aged well. The label suggests it can be drunk now, or put down for later, goes with all sorts of food, is definitely carbon neutral and, in the rare event that it gives you a hangover, you will be able to get cheap medication to get over it. Unusually for an Australian wine it comes in a brown glass bottle, shaped much like a 750ml VB.

The nose is pretty straightforward, nothing unexpected. The palate is reminiscent of previous Labor vintages but it feels better balanced – finding the middle ground between traditional aspirations and modern tastes.

The third wine is less well-known and harder to find. ‘Di Natale’ – the name means Christmas so you’d expect something that would get your spirits up – is a green wine and promises much. It promises you can drink without worrying about a hangover. It promises that we can all live happily ever after. It promises a new way. All of which makes me want to open it up and give it a go.

But, that’s when the problems begin. The cork is so tight you can’t open the bottle and find out what’s inside. Does it deliver? At the moment it’s impossible to say.

I like an honest wine. One that is what it says on the label. I wish I was Canadian and could get ‘Le Trudeau’.

(You’ll notice there’s no Barnaby here, that’s because The Nationals are a brewer not a winemaker.)