I did venture in determined and charging valiantly to smite that cursed "e"..., but then drew back my noble lance on realising the abomination merely recognises that the Irish and other foreign concoctions are not the real thing. I indulge rarely, but I do believe I shall enjoy a fine whisky soon. Dulcinea does not like it on my breath but she can surely survive one evening without my tender kiss?
Oh oh oh, noble Don. I hope it won't be an adulterated 'e'-less, so-called blended whisky, but a fine single malt, after which Dulcinea might even melt away when breathing in its malty-peaty singularity and afterwards sigh: "What a kiss, my sweet Don!"
It's worth a noble try
Just take your heart in your hand, valiant Don; well, and the wee dram.