After some early encouragement into the whisky scene via friends and Macallan, Murdo persists with a bottle of the Night on Earth Seasonal Release, only to discover it’s a stinker.

When we love whisky so much, it’s hard to be brutal about some of the obvious negatives. Yet sometimes, when things are clearly wrong, we just have to call it out. This decision was not taken lightly.

Fletch is trying hard to find a nice, special occasion whisky but, in another fit of disappointment, he’s reminded instead of a childhood movie that still haunts him today.

Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. It’s one of Fletch’s favourites; Deanston. Looking for something that the Tequila cask has imparted, he compares it to a similarly insipid Tequila cask blend.

Fletcher finds himself pondering this Blended Malt and, feeling like he’s being forced to make cocktails with it, he stubbornly judges it neat. Redemption? Erm… no.

Shock horror, model son Dougie actually chooses to buy a whisky he knows to be 40%, chill-filtered and probably coloured. And yet, he finds a place where it fits perfectly, and no, it’s not down the sink.

Exposed and laid bare, Ogilvie’s dwindling bottle collection is without a home, meaning he’s able to see and explore what would otherwise have been ignored, such as this Irish sleeper.

Curiosity gets the better of Fletch. With Glenlivet marking 200 years, they’ve released a 12yo that looks identical to the standard. Only available through TWE, he dives in to compare the world’s best selling malt.

Glenlivet’s ubiquitous 12yo in its slightly more modern ‘Double Oak’ guise is gifted to Ogilvie as he departs for his newly relocated life. Exhaustion has him skip the bottle specs, forcing a blind sip and a surprise.

After rekindling his love of scotch Eallair decides to put all the ‘natural’ and ‘integrity’ mantra to test. He selects what may be the two most obvious examples to sip side by side; Laphroaig’s ubiquitous 10yo and the popular Port Charlotte 10. This Friday First is not to be missed.

A self-administered humility check is required as Ogilvie is disappointed to receive an old standard. As he digs in to the Johnnie Walker Black, he’s reflective of the easy rise of snobbery in whisky.

Always on the hunt for a bargain, Ramsay discovers the full Glenfiddich age-stated core range on offer, but he keeps his canny head on and plumps for the (also discounted) mini-selection pack instead. Blunderous or inspired?

Whisky is better when shared, right? Well, sometimes. Ogilvie discovers how even a modest blend, ubiquitous in the Americas, is elevated when applied to the shared joy of an occasion.

The inner turmoil of to-buy-or-not-to-buy, Drummond’s internal battle occurs in a Glasgow supermarket aisle. You already know which side wins, but was it a war worth waging?

Three preambles for one whisky review? Something is borked at Dramface HQ and Wally takes pleasure in realising it’s only partly his fault for a change. It still makes for a nice whisky discovery though.

With four bottles stretching four decades Wally takes a nostalgic stroll through his love for not only an iconic 10 year old, but a style of whisky that he feels is currently ignored and needs to be addressed.

Like so many, Drummond is a Lockdown whisky geek. To catch up he ventures into Highland Park’s official 10yo to find some of that famous “all-rounder” character, only to discover something of a bargain no-brainer.

Once more we visit the topic of nostalgia through our whisky-glass lens, specifically a bottle that was easily one of the most solid bang-for-buck malts for years. It seems that has changed, and Ogilvie can taste it.

Through sheer ambivalence, it has been years since a Macallan has appeared in Wally’s stash. Now he considers how many more years before he buys another.

As a community of enthusiasts, we can often dismiss so many long-established, mass-market releases. Tyree compares two Glen Grant bottlings with a nod to the craft involved in maintaining consistency.