Imagine naming a beer called Paul. Plain old, boring old, Paul. Paul isn’t the loudest in the fridge. He’s not dressed up to the nines. He just sits there, looking like… well, a beer. Then you take a sip, and suddenly Paul makes sense. Like when your mate Dave insisted on wearing Crocs all those years ago. Juicy. Tropical. Smooth. With a big hits of citrus, mango and passion fruit. He’s king of the barstool without ever asking for the crown. Not plain. Not boring. Just Paul.
