The fizzy heights of success

Champagne Victor is a label of love for its creator. Rory Ross meets the bubbly personality behind the brand.

As a child, Lanson dreamt of running his own Champagne house. His family had other ideas. They sold Lanson lock, stock and barrels to Danone yogurt. They even threw in the rights to the name Lanson. Now 35, Victor has gently stuck two fingers up at the Champenois establishment and set up his own shoestring bubbly, cheekily named Champagne Victor, from scratch. "My Christian name is all I have," he shrugs. "Don't call me by my surname. It promotes a rival."

Champagne Victor exploded on to the scene last year as the toast at racecourses, polo grounds and motor-racing circuits. Victor flashed me his card, emblazoned, "Be Yourself. Be a Victor!". "My season lasts from January 1 to December 31," he says. "If I could add a few more weeks, I'd be happy." The allegorically named Victor cuts a magnum-sized figure. His French patrician hauteur wraps an English wit. Think Eric Morecambe crossed with Valerie Giscard d'Estaing shot with Jacques Tati (minus pipe and Empire-style trousers). He was the life and soul of Phyllis Court country club on the Thames when we met during Henley Royal Regatta. As Victor cruised the emerald sward, blazered "silver foxes" would slap him on the back, then turn to me and say, "Now don't let this man try to sell you his dread-ful Champagne. Ha-ha-ha!" No one needs another Champagne. "True," says Victor. "No one needs Champagne at all. But mine is uniquely British. I brainstormed and developed it in Guildford, where I live. It is the only truly British Champagne brand." Most Champagne houses consist of a chateau, cellar, vineyards and staff in Reims. Victor has none of these. His is a virtual one-man-band Champagne. He buys from a grower in Reims, and operates from his Guildford kitchen table, aided by Sue, his elegant, long-suffering English wife.

" I have no money," he says. "The generation before me had 11 children. Napoleonic inheritance laws screwed things up. I am free to take on the Champenois, but by myself." Make no mistake, his Champagne is the genuine article. His supplier and partner, Alliance Champagne in Reims, grows, blends and bottles it after close consultation with Victor. Victor makes a virtue of shoestrings. "The brand is 100 per cent me," he says. "My marketing consists of cracking open a couple of bottles with a few friends, who then become customers. Marketing people ask me what my message is. I tell them it's an empty bottle. "When I'm 70, I bet they'll make me a doctor of marketing. That would be a laugh. I've done everything against received wisdom." He must be doing something right. Victor has won Champagne of the Year at the International Wine and Spirit Competition. "Half the trophy belongs to my supplier in Reims," he says. A quarter of the trophy belongs to Sue Lanson, who proves that behind every ambitious man is an exhausted woman. "I helped choose the blend and design the label," she sighs. "I also run the business, correct Victor's spelling, temper his frogginess and juggle three children." 'Sue cannot escape," says Victor, "except during the school run. Even then, she has a mobile telephone. She copes with my excesses. The ego trip is mine, not hers. Besides, 'Champagne Sue' wouldn't sell, although it sounds like soul, which means 'drunk'. One day it could be my second label." Six weeks after meeting Sue at the Le Mans 24-hour race, Victor proposed to her - "I couldn't let her marry an Englishman. She is far too good" - then moved to England. "I never went to university," he says. "In France, I would be unemployable. England offered me a future as an entrepreneur."

After a spell at Laurent-Perrier in London, he switched to wine distribution, but hated the corporate marketing. He toyed with becoming a stand-up comic. Instead, he became a stand-up Champagne seller. "This Christmas, Sainsbury's have given me a fantastic break at their Calais branch, the biggest off-licence in Europe. I'll stand there and sell to the public. I've always longed to do this, but until now everyone thought I was a loony."

Victor is a delicate, easy-to-drink blend of Pinot Meunier, Pinot Noir and Chardonnay that has been bottle-aged for three years. "Forget the winespeak. I'm proud that when you drink it, you think, 'That's a great Champagne,' " beams Victor. "I like my Champagne like my women: bubbly but not expensive. There is no big statement. I'm not exclusive. I don't appeal to the expensive-is-good mindset. At £17, I am the best in the mid-range.'

Victor may be a superstar in his cellar, but life outside is tough. The Lansons have taken their three children out of private education and sold their vintage Mercedes. Sue works part-time for a local insurance firm to make ends meet. The Champagne is in Victor's name; the house is in Sue's. "We are on a mission either to bankruptcy, or to fame, fortune and fun," says Victor.