A kitchen scandal ending his tyrannical deathterm as Lord Mayor of America, our bouncing vococalist now spends his time and money administering 'Special Relief' to hormonally imbalanced nightsharks. A thankless and unsatisfyingly sporadic pursuit, he can often be found wading in cold lochs, feeding himself live trout, screaming blasphemies at the moon between bloody, aluminium mouthfuls.

Gav is your age, regularly amplified by microphonics, lives on Glasgows, and shows you all up at Pictionary.