You Know My Name

Ola! What brings a nationally recognized Llama from his penthouse in Santiago to the UK high street?
A little of this, a little of that but mostly, destiny. I am a llama of a generation, a rap enigma and like a sommelier pope. I’m eternally relevant and will change the course of wine history. You may have heard of me, in the same way you may have heard of Jesus, if you haven’t, my name is Guillermo.



I was born 5 years ago, that’s 25 in Llama years fam, in the mean vineyards of the Maipo Valley. I wasn’t raised with my food in a silver troth. My parents, worked hard for a living, both were guard Llamas, they’d leave in the morning and I wouldn’t know if they’d come back in the evening. There was always a chance that they’d lose their minds from all that inane bleating, from those damn sheep they were guarding.

So, I had to make my own way as a youth, looking back perhaps I fell into a rough crowd… Me and the other hood-llamas would spend all day on our patch, the corner of some Pinot Noir plantings, where we’d spit the breeze, offer to carry grapes down the mountain and then just eat them and try and sell knock-off alpaca hair ponchos. Yeah, we we’re bad mother-llamas.

I first picked up a mic on a trip to Santiago, I told my parents I was going to the Chilean National Museum of Natural History to see the first Incan depiction of our kind.
We actually went to see Kanye and drink cheap Carménère, we wound up in this house party, someone was laying down some mad beats and these dog-turd Culpeos (that’s a kinda gangster fox) were spitting the worst bars I had ever heard in my life. I thought “nah, not in my house” it wasn’t actually my house but it was more of an abstracted sense of community I was referring to.

My boy Carlos gave the Culpeo holding the mic a neck slap and I grabbed the mic straight out of his clammy mitts. Inspired by the holy spirit of Kanye, I just started freestyling, about being a badass Guanaco neck-wrestler, about spitting when I’m ready to copulate and when I’m agitated, fight or fornicate am I right? “Let me hear all the guanacos say Hey! Let me hear all the vicuñas say Ho!” Pretty sure every llama in the place was bouncing on the tips of their flat 2 toes. I crowd served out of there when I was done, me and Carlos got silly that evening. In the morning, I woke up next to an Alpaca, I know, I know. Not even the shame of that could bring me down.

Yeah, my rise was meteoric like a cross between Picasso and Escobar. Every kid in the favelas new the name Guillermo but feared to speak it in case my genius would melt their face off… like a Chilean Voldemort. My face was on the back of every bus as I sold out arenas. Yet, I stayed true to my roots, I’d still go to Maipo, pay my respects to my folks, chill on my old patch with my crew.



It was on the cross section of those Pinot Noir vines, that my consciousness changed, like spiritually. These two human women were there walking through my patch bold as brass, banging on about terroir and ungrafted rootstock. I was gonna roll up to them and give them the neck-wrestling of a lifetime but they turned to me and offered me a glass of the new Pinot Vintage they were trying. It was transcendent, we sat around talking about the nuances of wine, the beauty of the region and how wine shouldn’t be the prerogative of the privileged; exceptional wine for every man, women and llama. I thought, these cats get it.

“What brings you to my manor?” I asked them. They told me they were on a buying trip with Oddbins. “You best be stocking some of Maipo’s finest now!” They laughed and took another sip of the Pinot. We made our goodbyes and I told them to keep it real. “If you’re ever in the UK, come look us up, we’d love to have a well versed and charismatic llama like yourself be an Oddbins ambassador.” I thought, I might just do that.



I went back with my squad to Santiago and I might never of thought about Oddbins ever again if Carlos could’ve kept his mussel clean. This crew of Elephant Seals came in from the coast and were starting to make moves on our business, I was looking to make an amical solution, Santiago’s a big city I’m sure we could have coexisted. Yet after a show, as I was driving myself and Carlos home, we saw them outside a wine bar drinking Sauv blanc and cracking jokes like they owned the place. Carlos whispered real quiet, “drive slow.” Those Elephant seals never saw us coming, Carlos’ spit flew every wear as they threw themselves behind tables and we drove off into the night laughing.

The next day our faces were on every paper. “Spit-by” they were calling it. I realized quickly this heat wasn’t going away, I needed to get out of Chile. But where, then I remembered Oddbins, I could take a break from the Chilean rap seen, pursue wine professionally, perhaps even take my Llama of Wine (LW) qualification. I knew in my gut it was the right move, I escaped through South America, up through the Centrals and eventually navigated past Trumps pathetic wall. Got a flight across the pond and now I’m here, with Oddbins ready to represent and soon everyone in the Industry will know my name, you better watch, Guillermo’s in town!