“You can’t just go around assuming the gender of a track,” explained Rowlands earlier today. “Every time I hear Hey Boy Hey Girl on the radio or in a club it makes me cringe and I get really embarrassed. It makes me feel like a bit of an old fossil if I’m being honest with you.”

“It’s just not right to have songs like that in this day and age. It’s 2025, we can’t be running around acting like it’s still 2016, for fuck’s sake,” continued Rowlands. “I think the new version is way better anyway, it goes ‘hey they, hey they, superstar DJ, if you fully consent and I haven’t offended you in any way… here we go!” which in my opinion rolls off the tongue far easier.”

“We’re also re-shooting the video, which I’m really excited about,” confirmed Rowlands. “All of the skeletons in the new shoot will be gender-fluid, I’m not exactly sure what that means but I’m really happy about it, men and women’s skeletons all look identical to me anyway, so I suppose there is no gender in the skeletal world,” he added with complete disregard for human anatomy.

Rowlands also revealed that he is changing the act’s name from The Chemical Brothers to ‘The Chemical Family Members Choosing To Identify As Male’ as it is ‘the best way to avoid getting cancelled with this Gen-Z lot while on tour.

You can stream The Chemical Family Members Choosing To Identify As Male’s latest single Hey They on whatever murderous, scene-destroying platform you prefer. Probably Spotify?

Scientists are unsure how the club owners have managed such a feat.

“Scientifically, it shouldn’t be possible” said Dr. Michael Beaterson.

“In a space this densely packed humans would be unable to breathe, or have the blood flow around their bodies… or even have their DNA exist in anything other than a densely compacted atomic nothingness.“

“Yeah, that’s exactly what it was like” said Jordan Clubswetter, who attended the club twice this summer.

“My friend Shelley got a drink and tried to push her way out onto the dance floor, but when she came back she was just a compacted cloud of cosmic dust that had shrunk down into a tiny spec of heavy metal.”

“I said bloody hell shell! You’ve got yourself in a right state!”

“She disappeared through the floorboards and we didn’t see her again for the rest of the night. Or ever, actually.”

“RIP Shell.”

“We bought tickets again for the next night, cos you never know, might have just been an unusually busy night.”

“But when the taxi pulled up outside and immediately got sucked into a vortex behind the main entrance, we said we’d give it a miss.”

“We sat at the hotel and did the last of Shelley’s drugs on the balcony instead, which a was nice tribute to her I suppose.”

“We might go back next year and try again, we’ll see.”

“Depends who’s on the line-up.”

“It’s true” says regular music conference punter Kieran Doyle, from his kitchen-come-bathroom studio apartment in central London.

“Some people go to the likes of ADE and spend the week catching up with pals and getting wrecked.”

“Not me.”

“I arrive with a carefully planned spreadsheet of the week’s panels, hosted by some of the world’s most sleep-provoking tastemakers.”

“9 am Wed morning I’m already queuing outside the first panel location. Pen, notebook, and sleep mask in hand.”

“By 10 am I’m already in REM, fidgeting in my seat, lightly sweating, eyes twitching. The only time I’ll wake is when someone nudges me to ask what pills am I on and do I have a hook-up for some more?”

“You’ll never sleep as deeply as you will 30 minutes into some random bald guy talking to a girl with purple hair about how ‘dance music is struggling with an identity crisis and needs to reinvent itself.’”

“That’s why I love these things. They’re like a €700 sleeping pill that lasts 3 days.”

The family of popular TiK-Tok raver @technoprick is breathing a sigh of relief this afternoon.

@technoprick showed up alive and well in the kitchen of the family home, having completely disappeared over 30 seconds earlier in the week.

“He was on another one of his benders” a clearly distraught Mrs @technoprick told Wunderground reporters on the scene.

“Ever since he got into this Tik-Tok Techno scene, he has become a right selfish git.”

“One minute he is here, the next minute…. well, the next minute he is back again as the raves are only very short, but who knows where it could lead, you know?”

“No care or consideration for us, his family. Leaving us to sit here, waiting and wondering about him. Where the hell is he? Who is he with? Will we ever see him again?”

“There are only so many times you can ring a person’s phone in 30 seconds before you give up hope.”

“I can’t do this again. It’s tearing the family apart.”

“I fucking love it!” said KINK.

“You can literally do anything with this thing. They’re brilliant!”

“You know me, I’m always playing around with new toys and seeing how creative I can be. I started running out of new hardware options sometime last year. I had just played with it all! It started to get boring for me.”

“One Saturday afternoon I was chasing that Dopamine around my local shopping center. Seeing what could I find that I hadn’t already used to make music with.”

“I made a drum loop on some car bonnets in the car park. I recorded some claps with some old guy’s fake teeth. I even bought a high hat. I was walking around with it on, smashing into low-hanging lights and exit signs… it wasn’t enjoyable.”

“But something changed. I turned a corner past some shops, and it instantly filled my nostrils. That smell I know so well. Hardware!”

“I followed the scent like a bloodhound on the chase, and around 30 seconds later I hit the mother-load! The biggest shop you’ve ever seen, at least it felt that way to me as I stared in its window, drooling like a small child outside a candy shop.”

“It was white goods as far as the eye could see! Fridges, dishwashers, blenders… Heaven!”

“I spent 3 days in that shop. I hid in a chest freezer at closing time, and again at opening time, breathing through a snorkel I fashioned out of some old amplifier tubes I carry with me everywhere I go.”

“During the day, I was playing fairly crowd-friendly stuff, as the shop was full of customers. I knocked out a bit of vocal house of a Dyson Hoover rigged up to a toaster, then moved on to some floaty vibes recorded on a foot spa, and then when I had them eating out of the palm of my hand, I dropped a remix or Orbital’s ‘Belfast’ played live on a George Forman grill, with the help of a deep fat fryer… for those bottom notes, of course.”

“At night, I would crawl out of the chest freezer and go absolutely mental! I can’t honestly tell you what would happen, it’s like I blanked out and went to a higher place! Just so much new hardware for me to fuck around with, I think I kind of lost myself in that place, you know?”

“When I finally came around and gained consciousness, I was in the back of a taxi with the driver shouting at me to wake up. In the seat beside me, seatbelt on, ready for action… was the Airfryer. Everybody was telling me about these things, the stuff they can do. I didn’t really believe it. But fuck me, they’re good. They’re really good.”

“And so here we are weeks later, and it’s my favourite piece of kit. I’m going to sell all my studio gear I think. The air fryer is just so versatile, there really isn’t anything it can’t do.”

Sources close to the shopping center inform us that Kink was found fast asleep inside a chest freezer, spooning an Air Fryer, while snoring the exact rhythm to Carl Craig’s anthem ‘Strings Of Life’. He was carried into a taxi, and while he is welcome to keep the Air Fryer, he is no longer welcome in the shopping center.

“It happened over here” says James Cleverly, pointing to an old MacBook rotting on a tea-stained IKEA desk at the end of his unmade bed.

“I was sitting over there… in my recording studio, and I was thinking, what tricks have I got hidden up my sleeve today?”

“And then it hit me. It was like lightning running down my back! The biggest, bone-crushing, life-altering, scene-changing moment of inspiration I’ve had this week.”

“I’ll do a bloody disco edit!”

“Doesn’t matter what track. Actually, in another stroke of genius, I plan to search for disco edits on Beatport, and whichever one has done the best, I’m gonna do an edit of that edit… but I’m gonna do it a little bit better.”

“Larry Levan can eat my arse. The Belleville Three can suck my swiss. Kraftwerk can do one as well.”

“Today will be remembered as the day James Cleverly did a disco edit, had some cornflakes, and fucked off to the pub before lunch.”

“Strap in folks. One large slice of Music history coming right up.”

“Any balloon will rise with inflation – that’s common sense” claimed James Sheridan, a party balloon enthusiast, imaginary satirical character, and ferocious virgin. 

“The cost of helium is on the rise due to inflationary pressure, and so the cost is passed on to consumers, causing the rise you’re seeing in balloons nationwide” claims Ted Bundy, head economist for the BBC, AKA the Boring Balloon Consortium.”

“They’re both talking a load of hot air,” says Jordan Junkbottom, a college student selling balloons to schoolchildren from the back seat of a random bus. 

“Balloons are gonna cost more because they’re banning them and supply will go down. Supply goes down, price goes up. It’s basic supply and demand, ya dopes!”

This isn’t the first time the price of balloons has soured in recent years. It’s only two years since a consortium of party supply companies were discovered to be engaging in ‘pump and dump’ tactics when over 5000 fully inflated number-style balloons were found fly-tipped in a field off the M25. 

200 Influencers were killed in a car pile-up that day as they rushed to the scene to forage for their follower count in balloon form, a day that has come to be known as ‘the great newsfeed clearout’, with teeth whitening and seaweed moss posts down 87% ever since. 

More news on the balloon economy as we have it. 

The extremely large and frustrated queue waited for 6 hours, stretched back over 5 miles long, and was even photographed by two Astronauts from the International Space Station, who happened to be staying in the Premier Inn Chelmsford that night.

“It’s discrimination is what it is” said Kerri Richardson, who was rejected thanks to her Silicone lip-fillers.

“If I could inject compost into my face, I would. But until then, we work with what we’ve got.”

One woman slashed open her bosom with a Michael Kors switchblade and remove her implants in the queue, in absolute desperation to see her hero, Joel Corry.

“If I start chopping bits of plastic out of me, there will be none of me left” one onlooker was heard to remark.

The event organisers have also faced a backlash from local environmental groups, who claim the event should have gone ahead as planned, due to the knock-on effects the queue had on the environment.

“The heavy concentration of cheap designer fragrances produced extreme air pollution that caused respiratory distress to much of the local wildlife” said Ed Hacher, a local treehugger.

“16 Chihuahuas and a Miniature Puggle are currently in hospital fighting for their life.”

“I always knew I had a talent for this” said Kety James, a 19-year-old OnlyFans trainee from Miami.

“Anytime the music takes me, I just have this deep inbuilt desire to completely stop dancing and rummage around my handbag for my phone, so I can stand there lifelessly filming the top-right-hand corner of the stage, a bit of the guy-in-front’s head, and some of the sky.”

“These special moments need to be documented”

“I mean, sure, there is the on-site camera crew. And the artist’s videographer. And the big online platform streaming it with multiple camera angles and drones and then editing it perfectly with crystal-clear sound. And ten thousand people around me all filming it on their phones before posting online…”

“But I have a vision for how it should look. Actually, I have two visions. Double vision.”

“We’re absolutely delighted for her” said Kety’s mum.

“She is always filming those videos in the clubs and at the raves. They’re always brilliant, to be honest. As a family, we always look forward to Kety dragging herself in the front door on her hands and knees around 3pm on Sunday, eyes hanging out of her head from all that concentrating on camera angles and artistic direction, so we can stick her footage from the night before on the telly.”

“We make some popcorn, pour some fizzy pop, and we all climb under the blanket on the sofa together, as a family, and watch hours and hours and hours of Kety’s video masterpieces from the night before.”

“Honestly, they’re better than Netflix”

Up until now, anybody that wanted to communicate with the Aussie DJ had to do so through a team of skilled code-crackers. 

“Most days, we would record the sounds coming from his general direction and just print out the waveforms, trying to analyze them for patterns or anything that sounded earth-like that we might recognize” Said Alanna Turing, who worked on decrypting Fisher on a daily basis. 

“This usually ended with Fisher crashing the office, getting us all pissed on shots before he set fire to the papers and stuck his head backwards out the window to laugh at the neighbours.” 

“We’re absolutely delighted with this news” said Supernanny, who has been Fisher’s manager for the last 10 years.

“I mean, he seems like a lovely fella. But I haven’t got a fucking clue what he’s saying.”

“It’s like having a drunk pet in your house that just crows all day.”

“We were considering having a new voice box put in him. Get spare parts off some well-to-do posh kid that got hit by a car. Get him speaking the Queens English so we can actually communicate with him… but nooo.”

“The government stepped in. They reckon he is a national treasure. They’re saving him for if the aliens ever invade. They wanna send him out first…”

“They think he might speak their language.”