Over a decade ago, a passionate bloke called Tim came to meet me at the Evening Standard’s offices. We sat in the canteen as he told me with wide eyes of his journey across the Democratic Republic of the Congo, where his taxi had been attacked by local militia and only a wad of cash hidden in his sock had eased the danger of AK47s as he pursued the purest-quality quinine, from the bark of the fever tree.
Tim Warrillow’s journey was worthwhile: his now-listed Fever Tree business sold more than £300 million-worth of drinks last year.
