In September 2014, Apple and U2 collaborated in an extraordinary act of international generosity, giving more than 500 million iTunes customers access to a free album and inadvertently creating one of the most peculiar public relations disasters in musical history.

Nobody had been charged, nobody was obliged to listen, and yet millions of people found themselves caught up in a controversy over a present they had never asked to receive.

I decided to investigate how two of the world’s most successful brands had managed to make such a spectacular arse of giving something away.

The operation began when Apple announced that U2’s new album, Songs of Innocence, would be added to customers’ iTunes libraries, with automatic download settings meaning some people also found the music arriving on their devices.

The response was immediate, with complaints from people who considered the unsolicited appearance of an Irish rock band in their personal music collections an unacceptable intrusion.

It was rather like answering the door to somebody offering to discuss religion, politely declining, and subsequently discovering that they had installed a small chapel in your kitchen.

Within six days, Apple had developed a special removal tool, allowing customers to dispose of the offending gift, while Bono eventually apologised for an act of generosity which had somehow become an international incident.

I found the situation deeply troubling, particularly as the world appeared to have reached a point where people were demanding compensation in the form of technical assistance for receiving something that had cost them absolutely nothing.

My investigation took me first to Dublin, where U2 had recently returned to Mount Temple Comprehensive School to celebrate 50 years since the band’s formation.

Unfortunately, I arrived after the performance had finished, and my attempt to gain admission as a pupil was complicated by the fact that I was approximately half a century older than the usual intake.

Nevertheless, I established that U2 were still giving away music, although on this occasion the audience had voluntarily assembled to hear it, suggesting the band had learned something from their previous difficulties.

My Scottish concessionary bus pass had carried me as far as Edinburgh Airport, and the precise circumstances by which it subsequently conveyed me to Dublin and onward to California remain a matter of some sensitivity within international transport circles.

At Apple’s headquarters in Cupertino, I attempted to establish who had authorised the original giveaway, but became lost in the enormous circular building known as the Spaceship, eventually returning to what appeared to be my starting point without having interviewed anybody.

The experience convinced me that Apple’s understanding of personal choice required further examination, although I could not rule out the possibility that I had simply taken a wrong turning.

It was on my return to the Highlands that the investigation took an unexpected turn.

In 1987, U2 released I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For, and almost four decades later I have uncovered no convincing evidence that the band have successfully located whatever it was they were searching for.

Could it have been Nessie?

My examination of the Official Loch Ness Monster Sightings Register revealed no verified sighting involving Bono, although the absence of evidence does not necessarily establish that he has abandoned the search.

More significantly, unconfirmed intelligence suggested that a secret U2 performance might be connected to Grant Street Park, the home of Clachnacuddin FC in Inverness, affectionately known as the Ferry San Siro.

The proposed concert appears to possess all the characteristics of a legendary musical event, with nobody able to confirm the date, nobody admitting to possessing tickets, and several people apparently knowing somebody who knows somebody who was there.

I have been unable to establish whether the concert is scheduled to happen, has already happened, or exists entirely in the imagination of somebody who once heard The Joshua Tree in a pub.

There is also the troubling possibility that admission could be free, raising fears that residents of Merkinch might wake up to discover complimentary U2 tickets appearing in their digital wallets without permission.

Given the events of 2014, I believe Apple should resist any temptation to assist with distribution until the public has been properly consulted.

I have found no evidence that U2 intend to perform at the Ferry San Siro, nor any suggestion that Clachnacuddin FC are involved in arranging such an event, but I remain convinced that the rumour deserves careful monitoring.

After travelling thousands of miles, becoming lost in California and failing to gain admission to a Dublin secondary school, I have established that the world’s biggest technology company and one of its most successful rock bands once managed to offend people by giving them a present.

I have also established that U2 still haven’t found what they’re looking for, that Nessie remains unaccounted for, and that the Ferry San Siro may yet become the venue for the greatest concert nobody ever attended.

Should the concert take place, I intend to be there, although I have been advised that tickets are exceptionally difficult to obtain, possibly because none exist.

If you have any conspiracies you would like Aye to investigate, email conspiracycorner@thehighlandtimes.com