Of red wine, I've tippled a tun or 10 of various vintages in more halcyon days at the bar, but I confess I never once thought of getting hosed down with the stuff. Dumping it over squiffy hairdos of ex-wives-to-be, perhaps, or as the base for a particularly vile form of Kickapoo joy-juice at Christmas. But never as an item of personal ablution.

But then, I would never have thought such a thing of the French. Actually, I've never thought much of the French at all, what with their penchant for losing wars and wolfing down snails soused in a garlicky, green goo (the snails, not the French, alas). Yet it is they, turning the product of the grape into Hitchcockian-like shower a la "Psycho."

So come with us now, down to the southwest of France, to the Springs of Caudalia health farm. Or more accurately, as it bills itself, the world's first wine spa. And its credentials are endorsed by its location within the 300-acre grounds of the respected Chateau Smith-Haut-Lafitte vineyards. ("Smith"??? Ah, well...)

You are, be reminded, in the land of the most wondrous wines on the planet, and you are loaded (at the 300 smackers a day rate at which the Springs of Caudalia taps your wallet, you had better be). But you are not here to ply the inner man with drink; you are here to rid the outer man of the effects of drink.

The idea, at its simplest, is that by applying - or having applied - red wine to the area, one can rid oneself of the huge midriff balloon of fat that other thousands of dollars or pounds or yen or francs have been spent abuilding. In other words, what thou gaineth by the grape, so shalt thou loseth by the grape.

For $600 and two days of your time, the chateau's owner, Daniel Cathiard, will set his minions to hosing you down with jets of claret (at 12 bucks a bottle, vintage Bordeaux) flavored with herbs and mineral water. Or they will dump you into a barrel of claret - a form of body-cleansing total immersion, albeit rather well removed from church and water variety of childhood memory.

(In 15th century England, the Duke of Clarence was dumped into a barrel of malmsey wine, but involuntarily, being as it was his execution, and he drowned, so that was another story entirely and not really much to do with the Springs of Caudalia. Whatever...)

Or you can opt for a massage with mulled wine spiced with various herbs. There are plenty of new and inventive ways to use wine down at the old Chateau Smith-Haut-Lafitte.

Monsieur Cathiard likens his technique to health treatments such as mud baths, although I concede that that, too, leaves me scrabbling about for some sort of contact with reality. Poor pigs get a lot of stick for wallowing about in the mud, but women do the same and claim it makes them pretty.

That's about where, in the realm of logic, the female mind and I part company.

Anyway, back to the good monsieur, who has a perfectly reasonable explanation for it all: "People are getting bored with traditional treatments using seaweed and mud, so we wanted to come up with something a bit different." (Maybe that was Edison's reasoning in using the stuff that shocked Ben Franklin's kite to build a different sort of candle.)

"We consulted health experts about the possibility of using red wine," M. Cathiard assures one and all, "and our tests have shown it really can help you lose weight and feel invigorated."

It's called "vino-therapy," and monsieur's wine showers and baths are attracting scores of pudgy foreigners from fields afar, including Americans with perhaps a few more dollars than sense.

People say "vino-therapy" works. Some also believe Elvis lives and is shacked up with Judge Crater, and others write books of recipes for eggplant. Hey, man, there's room for us all.

And when the showers and baths and massages are done, there are always those glasses at the dinner table awaiting refills.

Thought for the Week: Stress is when you wake up screaming and you realize you haven't fallen asleep yet.

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