The deliveries are arriving at Glenn Mulloch. 

Trucks full of raw materials, unfermented as yet, full of the smells of the moor, stony, confused from being transported, snappy, hairy, recalcitrant material.

First you need to address it in its own language – Glenn Mulloch – and generally it decides to turn on its heel and big foot it off the site. On very rare occasions, the material can be retained and drawn into conversation. It sits down to dinner and possibly even allows itself to be convinced to stay the night. But only if the bed is made perfectly so that it doesn’t dream of its roots and take off, but stays and continues the conversation the next morning.
After many years, two or three might have stayed, perhaps out of a desire to find out something about a new world – whether it exists or not being a different question. In any case, engaging in conversation. One now serves them the clearest soups and the purest spirits – and right at the end, this is a matter of decades, one can ask if they are ready.
And mostly, during the decision-making process, while they are still thinking and snuffling the question with their now highly divergent antennae, when they are so clarified that they have reached an answer, they have evaporated.
And therefore the question – Glenn Mulloch – what actually does Glenn Mulloch, our noblest product, contain?