Our regular Ska Desk correspondent the Reverend Scott McCafferty (RSM) was due to post the latest edition of Bombskare’s exploits; this hasn’t happened. Three hours before deadline RSM left a voice message at the Bomblab; although we were only able to establish this as fact after we had ran the recording through a piece of voice recognition software. The results were not pleasant. For the previous edition we had asked RSM to write a piece on the recording of Bombskare’s album; ‘One Year in Portobello’ was the result. Shocking. Since then RSM has only been in contact through sporadic text messages with demands for microphone stands, heavy duty guitar strings for optimum detuning, coffee, and strong continental, fighting lager. According to the Reverend, these requests are ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY for the tasks at hand whatever they may be. We were not concerned about this; after all he is a man of the cloth. More worrying were the bills and invoices that started to arrive at the Bomblab. A dentist’s bill from Paris, a bar tab from Hamburg, a plastic surgeons bill for breast implants in Bucharest, and most peculiar of all an invoice from an undertakers in the Hague. Frantic calls to RSM went straight to message service. When we finally contacted him he sounded delirious. Between the silence and the screaming it appeared that the Reverend had got closer to the story than as first imagined. Too close, perhaps? We had asked him to report on the two Toasters / Bombskare / Fandangle gigs in Edinburgh & Aberdeen. The Reverend had played guitar on both those nights, and was best situated to accurately witness the proceedings. Pulitzer Prize winning stuff for Gonzo journalism in anyone’s books. However the exertions seem to have rendered RSM house bound, unfound and unbound. Incommunicado in terra incognito, so to speak. So we have no copy for the gigs with the Toasters. Nor any photos. If any readers do have photos please be in touch with the Bombskare photo desk. All we have to go on is the Reverend’s last voice message. An insane, curdling babble about Madness in Aberdeen. We are none the wiser.