The following story appeared (as truth) on another thread in this venue, but I cannot remember which. A rich American happened into a Scottish pub, and, feeling expansive after several drinks, ordered a round of the most expensive single-malt whisky -- on the rocks. The whole place fell silent, and after a pregnant pause, the publican said mildly, "I'm afraid our ice is rather warm this evening. Would you care to try the whisky neat?"

He deserves consideration for Ambassador to the US when independence happens.