Fattorini loves a good action film and recently spent an evening away from the wine engrossed in the Lewis Collins SAS thriller Who Dares Wins. Imagine his surprise then when, 20 minutes into the film, who should appear but Oz Clarke, slurp and gargle merchant from television's Food and Drink. Only this time he wasn't slurping and gargling but looking (or at least trying to look) hard. Here was Oz as a Special Branch officer, looking suspiciously at a dodgy Arab businessman in a flashy car.

Of course, it's no secret that Oz was an actor before he became a wine buff, although we always thought it was more Wilde, Potter and Donne rather than ''wild nutter and gun''. But in the office the next day Fattorini wondered aloud - what was it that made a successful and famous wine writer? Perhaps, in Oz's case, it was an ability to put life into his words, a craft learned after years treading the stage. Shields suggested it was more likely to be an ability to produce 500 words after an afternoon in the bar. Apparently Shields has met some journalists for whom this is more truth than cliche.

Certainly, it is true that it must take some self-discipline to produce copy after the great merchant's tastings, where hundreds of wines are on offer. Rather than just sleep it off you are expected to sit at a terminal and write sensibly for an hour. And journalism has produced a fair crop of wine writers, too. Hugh Johnson, Cyril Ray and the first person outside the wine trade to become a Master of Wine or MW, Jancis Robinson, all started out as journalists. But even so, it could still be their elegant mastery of the written word, suggested Fattorini.

No, it's definitely because they can handle their drink, said Shields. Look at lawyers: they like a tipple and they've produced great wine writers like Robert Parker and Julian Jeffs, and he was a QC. And doctors too. Everyone knows that doctors like a drink - it was only a few weeks ago you were saying how the Wine Society was filled with them. Simon Halliday is a great wine writer and he was a doctor. And the wine trade itself, now there's a job where you have to keep a clear head in a heavy session. But you never see bad copy from Michael Broadbent, Clive Coates or Steven Spurrier.

What about Serena Sutcliffe? Fattorini jumped in. She was a translator, now there's a job for a wordsmith. She translated the glorious, international language of wine into a baser tongue us mere mortals could understand, he mused. No, said Shields, just means she could ask the way to the bar in more languages and order more peculiar cocktails. Seeing Fattorini's downcast expression, Shields took pity on his colleague. I know you came into this with good intentions to be a great writer but it's all a scam. People just want to read something funny about drink.

It's not just that, said Fattorini, but we haven't even got any wines in this week's column. I mean, what kind of wine writers are we? Don't worry about that, replied Shields. If you come down to the Press Bar I think you'll find they're having a tasting - Chateau Ladywell, 1998, from the great Tennents estate; foaming head, rich flavoursome nose and a warm palate that makes your worries drift into the moonlight.

l Joe Fattorini is committed to developing a reputation for sober, detached and high-minded wine writing. Tom Shields isn't