Signatory Vintage Limited Edition | 46% ABV

An Army of Happiness

There are many teams involved in this year’s World Cup Finals, of course there are. More than ever in fact. With an extension in 2026, we now have 48 teams competing.

Dramface goes out to all of those countries. So it seems a little self-centred to be featuring only these Scotland-focused releases either side of the opening weekend of the competition. But we can’t help it, we’re just so bloody excited.

Not all of the team involved here at Dramface are interested in football, and even less are located in Scotland, and not all of those, even, are really invested in the gladiatorial games playing out in North America right now. So, really, how interesting are these bottlings going to be?

Well it’s scotch whisky, and that’s our thing here. And it’s celebrating Scotland and Scottishness, after all. I hope that’s okay. When it comes to football, it’s very rare to be able to celebrate that.

And today, behind the saltire and thistle-laden colour scheme, there lies a crafted single malt widely available and priced very fairly. On the face of it, an opportunistic but earnest and fun release that doesn’t come around too often. So, bear with us and, should you prefer to forget about the football, skip ahead to the reviews from myself and Charlie and consider today a critique on nothing more than the liquid.

But I’d like to spend a moment on considering why this release is called Tartan Army, because our travelling fans are an incredible asset for our country, and often an ambassadorial representation of an alternative human attitude.

I’m writing this the day after our opening game against Haiti. This tiny, poorly-resourced and slowly recovering nation number around twelve million in population, with a further million living in the USA. They are currently ranked 83rd in the FIFA international rankings, which means very little in a practical sense - but in order to try and scale things, it’s a start.

Scotland, a developed, resourced and footballing nation with a population of just over five million, is ranked 40th. The other two teams in our group of four are Brazil and Morocco, ranked 6th and 7th respectively. We got a win in our first game against Haiti; a very happy start, but it was a difficult watch.

We need to find something special in the next two games - like how to make a pass, or retain the ball for a beat or two - to take anything from them at all. With only three points and one goal to-the-good, we’re statistically likely to be one of the four 3rd-placed teams who’ll head home after these group stages. Forever the pessimist, I know, but it’s likely.

In an attempt to ply some optimism, we do have a secret weapon, or two. The first is that both Morocco and Brazil will watch that game and potentially set themselves up for an easy-peasy Friday afternoon shift, taking their mental eye off the ball, so to speak. We’ll surprise them by switching back to a stronger midfield shape and defend like maniacs, with a lone striker waiting to spring on the counter attack. You never know, right?

But, honestly, our main strength, and this is where the tournament’s true pleasure lies for me, is our incredible travelling fans. The stories are wild. Despite needing to remortgage their lives to get to Boston, The Tartan Army are out in force. I think we do have the world’s best supporters.

They are our protection, our solace, our fun - especially when the football leaves us wanting. They are a joyous, energised and wildly happy manifestation of the human spirit and an addictive pleasure to follow - even from a distance.

This Scotland travelling support, as rare as it is these days, is a thing to witness. It’s difficult to describe but, for scale, in the 2024 Euro finals held in Germany over 200,000 fans travelled in support, despite only a fraction actually having tickets to attend any games. Think of that for a second. For every twenty or so people in Scotland, one was off to Germany, probably in a kilt.

For the World Cup this year, that number will be decimated. It’s estimated that the number will likely be ‘only’ around 20,000. The distance isn’t the killer, the cost is. Some political stances or positions of principle have also been taken. Still, twenty thousand is not nothing and wherever they go you’ll hear them. Imagine, if you will, twenty thousand Gregor McWees, smiling, singing and cheering; whatever happens.

So, I kinda love the fact that this Ben Nevis release has been put out there for a very fair price, in celebration of an army of happiness that every nation, whether at the finals or not, might take a tiny spot of inspiration from.

Review 1/2 - Wally

Ben Nevis 11yo, Signatory Vintage Tartan Army 2026 Release, bottled from ex-sherry casks, 46% ABV
£45 and wide availability

Score: 6/10

**Good stuff.**
***TL;DR***
*Still retains some Ben Nevis oddball joy, despite bold, sweet (but fresh) sherry cask influence*

Nose

Dark and juicy on the nose: dates, dark fudge, treacle and beeswax. Dirtier themes of creosote, wood polish and coal tar appear, with a sweetened backdrop of vanillas and coffee pods.

Palate

Soft and oaky. There’s a juicy and sweet arrival that makes this more of a drinker than a contemplator, but it does give up some complexity in time. Sweet treacle toffees, vanilla, ripe plums and damson jam, tinned apricot, cola cubes and an occasional, illusive herb-y note, let’s go with tarragon. There’s also a little nuttiness that appears, especially after a drop of water, but it’s more of a general vibe than a specific ‘nut’.

The Dregs

All-in-all, if you’re sensitive to wood-derived notes, this may be only an occasional pour for you, and the palate doesn’t quite deliver the Ben Nevis grime promised by the nose, but I think the point of this one is to just be enjoyed. It’s one of those open-and-chuck-the-cork bottles and, especially for an often-challenging spirit such as Ben Nevis, it’s been presented in a remarkably drinkable way. The casks are prominent here, but they’re fresh, sweet and clean.

We’re spoiled for choice these days for high quality, easy to drink, share and enjoy bottles priced in the fair-and-retail-friendly, sub-fifty-quid bracket. This is one of those. It is immensely relaxed, but don’t take that as a slight on its weight and potency, it’s not a lightweight whisky, and I think it’s also quite memorable too.

There will be a lot of people who take a slug of this as potentially their first ever malt whisky. Perhaps it’ll be from a hip-flask, stowed inside a sporran - they’ll be wearing a kilt after all - marching and singing, spreading cheer and happiness and maybe, just maybe, this will hit and be a perfect backdrop to the joyous chaos.

While I don’t dare to dream that we’ll pull off the impossible against the mighty Moroccans or the blazing Brazilians, I know with absolute certainty that the army of tartans that are the Scotland fans will bring their colour, voice and humility to every terrace, every corner and every hostelry. Regardless of the results, it’ll be something to witness and celebrate. Even from afar.

We’ll be coming…

Score: 6/10

Review 2/2 - Charlie

Ben Nevis 11yo, Signatory Vintage Tartan Army 2026 Release, bottled from ex-sherry casks, 46% ABV
£45 and wide availability

Mrs Campbell recently suggested that we should consider doing the classic Panini sticker album for the 2026 World Cup. To say that was a blast from my past is an understatement!

There was a time, long before I learned the difference between cask strength and 40%, when the most important thing in my life came in a packet that cost about 12p and had a vague whiff of glue: Panini World Cup stickers. Primary school days, that was the 1980s, a time when an entire micro‑economy was run by primary aged children. These are forgotten skills.

The ritual was always the same. You’d walk into the playground clutching two or three unopened packets, if you were lucky. You’d peel those packets open with absolute seriousness, expectations high for a shiny badge or a striker with a moustache that made him look like your mate’s dad - because it was the 80s and footballers had moustaches, Graeme Souness never looks the same without one in my opinion.

More often than not, you got two Yugoslavian defenders, a midfielder from Morocco and the Canadian goalie. Aside from trading and negotiation skills, Panini taught kids how to be disappointed yet move on with their day. But occasionally you would get a cracking ‘doubler’, not just any doubler, a valuable one, a Kenny Dalglish, a John Barnes or a Terry Butcher.

And those doublers led to the swaps, those were proper currency; cards that people wanted and could elicit good trades in return, sometimes for multiple stickers. The swaps were arguably the most important part of the whole thing. “Got it, got it, need it” the first proper negotiation skills a generation of primary school kids became fluent in. Deals were struck that UN peace negotiators could learn from, intense negotiations that were not always guaranteed to result in a deal - people understood the value of some of the stickers.

There was pretty much always one kid who claimed he had the whole album completed already. Lies, obviously as no one ever got to see this completed masterpiece.

The next lesson for kids was tidiness, and that is one I felt was almost impossible to accomplish. You always had the expectation that when you went to insert a sticker, that you would get it stuck in, bang on straight with the lines. But invariably you would end up with a slight tilt that would stare back at you, with all the other wonky aligned stickers, for the rest of the tournament.

But when you did finally manage to fill a page - a whole team, moustaches and perms aligned in perfect 1980s glory - it felt like you’d achieved something monumental.

Looking back, there was a lot more to this than football. It was about belonging, interacting with kids outside your core friend group, about learning the rules of negotiation, disappointment, and delayed gratification long before whisky taught us the same lessons in more expensive ways. And there was no electronic or online element to it at all.

Maybe Panini are to blame for all of us trying to complete the great Whisky collection.

This idea of Mrs Campbell to collect the 2026 World Cup Album was quickly discarded after I read an article which noted that the amount you would need to spend to complete such an exercise would now be between £1,000 and £1,500. Apparently you could do it for £238 if you were swapping, but on further reflection I really wasn’t sure where I would be taking my doublers to try and swap in 2026 (the local primary schools aren’t likely to welcome me in to do this), and you can use £1,500 to buy a fair amount of new whisky bottles.

Score: 4/10

**Some promise**
***TL;DR***
*Someone’s cup of tea, unfortunately not mine*

Nose

The nose sings a bit with notes of sweet fudge, Lyle’s golden syrup and fruitcake. But there are also bananas in the background; bananas that have been overripened and then ripened again.

Palate

The taste on this is initially heavy on Christmas fruitcake alongside liquorice, orange notes and dark chocolate. But the taste quickly descends into a funky farmyard taste along with bitter, stewed coffee and an element of chalky/plasterboard at the backend, not the feel of it, just a taste.

The mouthfeel is thick and oily which you can see from the way it coats the glass. The length of finish is long and warm, but not that welcome.

I tried adding a bit of water to it, which does alter the taste quite significantly, unfortunately not for the better; it’s just a different kind of weird funk which immediately tasted really diluted.

The Dregs

I really did not take to this. I have never had a Ben Nevis I didn’t like and never had a Signatory Vintage that I didn’t think was good. I don’t think I can say either of those for these. The initial taste could be any type of sherry cask release, but it quickly descended into a taste that I found unwelcome or unpleasant. At 11 years old I definitely think this should be a lot better.

I debated extensively if I thought this was a 5/10 or my initial 4/10 rating, but I ultimately realised the idea of a 5/10 was more down to my affection for the bottler and the distillery. It will be someone’s cup of tea but not mine.

Score: 4/10

Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. WMc

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