UNCLE DUKE, THE MAN, THE LEGEND

Uncle Duke was born on the 12.05 Iron Horse out of Kentucky. The youngest of 7 bucks, he had to grow up fast. And like all young southern gentleman he had a taste for whisk(e)y, women, small fire arms and motorcycles. Not necessarily in that order but mostly. His Mama said he was a throw-back from his Great Uncle Nathanial (see the Duke family tree), who went off the rails and then off to the asylum at an early age. A proud woman, she ensured Duke’s education and raised him to have good manners. So when the local law-enforcement officers came calling, he would politely excuse himself or give them a good licking with his silver tongue.

Duke spent his formative years fast and wild in some moments, slow and dirty in others, but on balance he liked it fast. And it was just a matter of time before the forked tongue of fate put him on a different path. After being driven slowly and quietly into the kind of terminal craziness that comes with finally realising that the one thing he wanted, was not there. Missing. No show. Desprovisto.

He quickly came to the conclusion (remember Duke liked to do stuff fast) there had to be a whole new whisk(e)y scene, and the only way to do it was to make the big move — either figuratively or literally — from the South to the North, from old to new. To create a schizophrenic delusional whiskey that was hell-bent on being a bourbon. One that Great Uncle Nat would be proud of.

He decided on literally, pointed his super charged Indian Scout north and chartered a course for Scotland. Full throttle on his supersonic road trip. He left a non-conformist petty criminal native son and arrived a cold blooded, and heavily armed whisk(e)y warrior. Little did he know, that his terminal addiction to speed would lead him to create the ultimate bastard love child of Whisky and Bourbon. Or that he would, as a result, create a whole new subculture of bedrock whisk(e)y patriots. His ideas and his whisk(e)y may have taken a little time to catch on back home but round these parts he sure as hell is everyone’s favourite dead Uncle.

Duke came from a long line of dis-functional hammerheads. Likeable rogues on the highway to hell. Motorcycle heads, with nothing but whisk(e)y and speed on their mind. The Devil rode side-car and fiddlers followed, playing up a storm.

In fact the whole tribe lived fast and full. And they all shared in the vagrant optimism that one day, one of them, would strike gold. And as it turned out, Duke would be that prodigal son.

God did not invent guns and motorcycles for the slow. He had fast in mind. The meek may inherit the earth but the fast sure as hell will beat them to it. Duke enjoyed his fire arms.

Please enjoy his guns responsibly. We do have a warehouse full of Korean War Howitzers we need to offload, but sadly our lawyers have advised us we can’t sell them on this site.

weddings, funerals, births
bank managers - Duke had a gun
for every occasion.

For Duke fast was a way of life. He left a trail of happy motorcycle salesmen, frustrated women and disappointed cops in his wake. Fast was his middle name, well actually it was Thadius, but you get the idea.

Please enjoy his motorcycles responsibly. We do have a truck load of hot chopped and tuned Hoggs ready to roll but sadly we have been advised by our legal team not to sell them on this site.

He cruised most of the southern
states, regularly stealing hearts
and occasionally motorcycles.

They say good things come in threes. And right now they, whoever they are, are right. Duke’s third passion was whisk(e)y. Duke was born fast and lived supersonic. Just like his whisk(e)y. A life-time in the making, three years in the barrel. Three years is a fucking life-time, as Duke would say. And we’re pleased, if not a little fired up, to tell you that we are allowed to sell some of Duke’s legacy on this site. Namley, his world renowned and world-class sippin’ whisk(e)y. So live fast and buy quickly before we sell out. Uncle Duke will burn on your memory like a brand. That’s good, because it is one. Live fast, drink Duke and rip it up down empty streets.

Taste the spirit of Duke. Just like Duke, this bad boy has packed in a lot of living in its three short years. Saddle up for a smooth supersonic whisk(e)y blast. This young buck is complex for its age, with honey notes and fruit on the nose, hints of vanilla, sticky toffee and candy-ass fruits give way to the long finish which lingers, like a bordello madam, as Duke would say. Put a little fire in your belly. Please enjoy our whisky responsibly. Always keep firearms holstered and on safety. Park motorcycles safely and considerately outside your chosen drinking establishment. Available at most good General Stores and right here on this site.

taste the spirit of duke

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uncle duke, the man, the legend

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