The town, Barrows Gate, is located one hundred and fifty miles north of London and has recently become overrun with promoters following a large number of club closures in the capital.

Town officials have declared a “code orange emergency” and are calling for the government to help control promoter numbers in the area.

“We’ve got a population of about 1,300 people and almost 2,000 promoters,” one local told Wunderground earlier. “We already had too many promoters of our own, but then they started shutting all of the clubs down there in that London and we started getting all of their promoters coming up here too.”

“I can’t even go to the shop on a Monday morning without some flashy looking lad trying to sell me tickets, offering me free VIP upgrades or trying to put an access all areas band on my wrist,” continued the local. “It’s dead annoying, especially when you’re only popping down the Co-op for a liter of milk.

Despite the extremely high level of competition in the town, all of the promoters currently living there claim they are “killing it” and constantly “smashing” their events.

“Honestly, my events are almost nearly kind of full down here a lot of the time,” Lance Worthing, owner of one of almost eight hundred weekly tech house nights, told us. “Tickets are flying out of the door mate, I’ve still got a few early birds left for this week’s event but they’re selling fast so if you want a couple you better get them now.”

“I’m putting tens of people into the venue on a near-weekly basis, totally smashing it mate, moving up here was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Reports suggest that the lack of available venue in the town has forced promoters to think creatively in order to find suitable places to host their parties, with club nights now taking place in a selection of barns, shops, church halls and even the local police station.

This groundbreaking piece of journalism is brought to you by How To Promote Good – Wunderground’s new comedy series & clubnight @ Hï Ibiza

Warren Davis, who runs nights in The Rabbit’s Hole, a little known club in the west of Ireland, defended the venue after one of his clubnights came in for some harsh online criticism.

“Good to see the keyboard warriors are still out in force anyway,” Warren said sarcastically. “Do they not realise the damage their words can do to the reputation of a promoter or a venue? If they did, maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to make their vile comments on social media.”

“Everyone’s been saying the same thing, ‘The Rabbit’s Hole is a tiny shithole’, they’re even comparing it to an actual rabbit’s arse, which actually is a tiny shithole, but that’s not the hole it’s supposed to reference,” Warren continued defensively. “It’s supposed to be about a rabbit’s house, not it’s arse, so underground and dark, not tiny and shitty.”

“I much prefer to think of the venue as intimate and bespoke,” the promoter continued. “Sure, it might only comfortably hold about forty people but I’m willing to take the risk and pack at least one hundred and twenty people into it which, believe me, gets very fucking intimate and so what if it stinks of shite, some people like that and you can’t get any more bespoke than that.”

According to one TripAdvisor review, The Rabbit Hole is the clubbing equivalent of “catching your dick in your fly” with the user claiming it was “extremely uncomfortable” and “definitely not something you’d like to do again”.

This groundbreaking piece of journalism is brought to you by How To Promote Good – Wunderground’s new comedy series & clubnight @ Hï Ibiza  

Andrew Wilson, an avid believer in taking advantage of upcoming DJs, revealed that he would never discriminate because of gender and always demands equally as much of all DJs, whether they are male or female.

“Some people look at a DJ and they see a male DJ or a female DJ,” Wilson told Wunderground today. “But that’s not me, I look at a DJ and gender doesn’t even cross my mind, the only thing I see is a big fuck off pound sign because equality is very important to me and I genuinely believe that both men and women should be making me the exact same amount of money.”

“My parties are a bit of a big deal around here,” claimed Wilson, who last sold out a show in 2013 despite running the only clubnight in his town. “It’s hard for DJs to get a break around here, that’s why they come to me and I tell every single one of them the same thing, ‘sell twenty tickets and you’ve got a gig’, regardless of what bits they’ve got.”

“You see, I believe DJs are DJs no matter what their gender,” the promoter continued. “They’re there to be exploited and I’m happy to exploit a man as much as I am a woman. I don’t get these other promoters who’ll only deal with one or the other, catch yourselves on fellas, they can both sell tickets, especially if they’re sexy.”

“As far as I’m concerned, the only difference between a male and female DJ is that there’s one who I’d like to shag more than the other, everything else is pretty much insignificant.”

In other news, a Scottish promoter has been slammed on social media after trying to support gender equality by insisting both male and female members of the crowd go “taps aff” during a recent show.

This groundbreaking piece of journalism is brought to you by How To Promote Good – Wunderground’s new comedy series & clubnight @ Hï Ibiza 

Sources within the festival circuit have revealed that a “powerful global conglomerate” have been controlling festival lineups for the last two decades.

“Have you ever wondered why all festivals seem to have practically the exact same lineups?” an anonymous industry insider asked earlier today. “It’s no coincidence, the reason they all seem so similar is because they’re all booked by the same person. It’s been happening for years.”

“When you buy a ticket to a festival, you’re really just paying a massive corporation to control what you’re listening to,” continued the source, who was starting to sound like a conspiracy theorist. “Not only are they controlling the music you listen to, they’re also controlling what you eat and drink, how you spend your money and even how much sleep you get.”

“They’re not festivals at all, they’re basically just mind control camps and you’re paying for the privilege to attend them,” he continued with a manic look in his eye. “So, next time you go to a festival and come home thinking the world is round, ask yourself these simple questions; who really shot JFK? Who blew up the twin towers? Are chemtrails controlling your thoughts? Is Donald Trump a lizard? And why is Richie Hawtin headlining every festival in the world?”

At this point, on the grounds of our source being a complete fucking lunatic, Wunderground decided to end the interview, and instead chose to talk to some random lady we met on the street.

“Yeah, I have been thinking that all festivals lineups are a bit same-same,” she told us. “I suppose it’s just popular acts that sell tickets, it isn’t half boring though, I like small boutique festivals, I  wouldn’t even go to one of those big ones if the tickets were free.”

Wunderground later proved the lady wrong by offering her free tickets to a big festival, which she happily accepted.

In A Wunderground exclusive, owner Pablo ‘Peroni’ Smith revealed the stark reality of being the owner of the club that hosts the biggest techno events in Ramsgate.

“Yeah, its great packing the club out every weekend,” Pablo, known to his friends as P-P, told us. “We get the ‘in-crowd’ of East Kent. The real cool kids who know their music. They know their Guetta from their Aoki’s. We work with all of the biggest promoters from the likes of Medway & Maidstone.”

Often billed as the ‘Amnesia Club’ of Kent, the prestige of such an accolade often comes at a price for owner Pablo.

“We are all getting wet… we had to remove the roof!”

“Quite simply, we got sick and tired of the problems caused by promoter’s egos. We can’t get to our 400 capacity and have the promoter in the same room at the same time.”

“We get 200 in, but on certain nights we are full. It then dawned on us that we had to make more space. We did a few things, like move the Green Room to the car park, but removing the roof was an expensive necessity. I had to re-mortgage my house to pay for it.”

“Since we removed the roof, we’re now having to supply towels and hairdryers, we’ve even had to replace beer in the fridge with coffee machines.”

Reports suggest the bank has now repossessed Pablo’s house, with the club owner currently living in a tent on the dancefloor, and saif to be thouroughly enjoying sleeping under the stars.

The research, which saw several key events personnel have their social lives monitored closely by university graduates, affirms the stance that friendship only exists if one party has a target in mind.

Analysing data from social networks and the user’s phones, researchers were able to find a strong correlation between the time of the year and the number of people actively posing as friends. More often than not, the new ’friends’ were highly likely to be interested in attending a festival, concert or event and saw their connection to the event management as an opportunity to earn a place on the coveted guest list.

Jake Holmes, a Festival Organiser, said, ”the notifications usually start around March. At first, it’s one or two a day, with people asking how you are or how’s work, but before you know it you’re getting dozens of texts, calls and chats every day. Come June, everyone wants to know how things are going.”

“By July, almost all of the messages have changed from friendly chats and well-wishing to requests for guestlist spots, free tickets and +1s. Come September, there’s not a single message, not even from my Mum.”

Event Managers have responded to the study with concern, with many choosing to look at out-of-season events, particularly centered around Halloween, Easter and New Year’s Eve, in order to maintain a consistently large circle of friends.

Rumours circulating on social media suggest a group of Scotsmen, who have a tendency to deep-fry everything, were planning to form a hunting party to track down the Chicken, or Rowgelia as he is known to his friends and family.

Allister McCarter, a hungry Scot with a taste for fried chicken, has claimed that he will be “going all out” to catch Rowgelia during the festival.

“I’m definitely bringing my hunting kit with me to elrow Town,” he told us earlier. “I’ll be honest with you, I bring it everywhere with me, it’s just a bottle of Buckie and a pouch of tobacco but you’d be surprised how useful that stuff is when hunting, especially in Scotland.”

“I’ll catch the wee fucker too, just you wait and see,” he insisted. “And when I do, I’ll eat him. It’ll be the only bit of nourishment I get all day, there’s no way I’m spending any of my drink money on food.”

Albert Santos, a spokesperson for elrow, spoke to Wunderground earlier, “We’ve heard that there is a gang of people who are planning on trying to catch Rowgelia so we just want to go on record now and ask people not to do it, it’s a complete waste of time because they’ll never be able to catch him.”

“He’s no ordinary chicken,” our source continued. “He has special powers that will help him evade capture. He can smell cheap larger from over a kilometer away, which should make it quite easy for him to stay out of the way of any drunken Scots. He’s also extremely fast on his feet and unlike most other chickens he’s able to fly in short spurts so he’s very evasive.”

“Not only that, he’s also over seven foot tall and three foot wide, so unless you’ve got some sort of super-size industrial deep-fat-fryer, you’re never going to be able to cook him,” Santos claimed.

“And, to top it all off, you’ll have noticed I keep referring to Roegelia as ‘he’ so he’s not actually a chicken as people think, he’s a cock, and let’s be honest, nobody wants a deep-fried cock.”

Paul Durkin, one of the only surviving grime promoters left in the UK, is believed to have borrowed £100 of one of his housemates to throw a party marking his monumental day.

“I can’t believe I’ve actually managed to get the rent in on time,” an elated Durkin told Wunderground. “Well, technically, it was two days late but my landlord wasn’t on to me to get it paid so that counts as being on time. I’m fucking chuffed, I finally know what it feels like to be an adult and I’ve managed to do it before my thirtieth, what a mint feeling.”

“I’ve run three parties in the last month so I’ve really been pushing to get to where I am,” Durkin explained. “So, with the profits I made from my shows and the £500 I made from my twenty-ninth birthday last week, I was easily able to afford the £550 rent.”

“I’ve decided to throw a massive party and get all of my mates around to help me celebrate,” he continued. “The only problem was my rent completely cleared me out but, luckily, my housemate Barry was on hand to give me a lend of a ton and now we’re gonna party like it’s 1999, or actually, maybe more like it was 2011, when grime was still popular.”

“I’ve invited every person on my brand’s Facebook page, as a kind of thank you for all of their support over the years,” he generously revealed. “So, if my parties are anything to go by, there should be at least fifteen people, and at £7 in, I should easily make the £100 back to give Barry.”

Reports suggest that Mr Durkin’s party turned out to be the busiest event he has ever run, after eighteen people showed up, however, after buying a round of Jager bombs, he was unable to reimburse Barry, more on this as we get it.

This groundbreaking piece of journalism is brought to you by How To Promote Good – Wunderground’s new comedy series & clubnight @ Hï Ibiza

According to reports, promoters are rarer than a “dodo riding on the back of a woolly mammoth” at closing time, often resulting in DJs having to leave venues without being paid.

However, the recruitment of clairvoyants in recent months has led to an almost 50% increase in DJs getting paid on time.

One resident DJ spoke to Wunderground earlier, “If I could add up all of the time I’ve spent looking for promoters in nightclubs at the end of a night, I’d have almost enough time to listen one of those Italian lads’ extra long sets, only I wouldn’t, I’d do something more exciting with it, like paint my garage, or cut the grass.”

“But, what I’m trying to say is, they always go missing, I’ve been playing in the same club for almost five years now,” continued the DJ. “The promoter is actually one of my best friends, and my housemate, but he still goes missing every time and I’m left looking for the prick.”

“Even though we live together, I still don’t find him until much later in the week and even then, I’m lucky to get paid within the month because ‘he’s already lodged the cash’ or whatever,” explained our source. “The only way I can ever get paid on time is by getting him on the night and, up until recently that just wasn’t possible.”

“But thankfully now, thanks to Weird Walda, my local clairvoyant, I always know where he is at the end of the night,” he said happily. “Funnily enough, nine times out of ten, I’ve found him hiding in the bogs.”

Wunderground sources have claimed that this is not the first crossover between clubbing and the supernatural after it was confirmed that Ten Walls had been using a dead relative from the 1800s to manage his social media accounts.

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Martin Underwood, owner of Woody’s, one of Colchester’s least respected clubnights, claims that attending his parties is his least favourite part of the job.

“When I started out, many years ago, I honestly thought this job was going to be so much fun but I genuinely haven’t enjoyed a single minute of it,” Underwood explained earlier. “The only reason I’ve stuck at it for all of these years is that I don’t like getting out of bed before midday and this was the only job I could find where that was alright.”

“At first, I was booking acts I really liked, thinking I’d have the night of my life with my heroes, well you know what they say, never meet your heroes, most of them turned out to be total dicks and I was too busy running around like a ball of stress to even chat with them,” continued the promoter. “If it wasn’t for the alcohol, I’d have quit years ago. Luckily, I had a never-ending supply of drink tokens for paying the warm-up acts, so I was never short of a drink or two.”

“Those days were tough, I was hardly breaking even and totally busting my bollox,” he claimed while reminiscing of a time where he worked approximately eleven hours per week. “So, eventually I decided to forget about booking acts I liked and started booking some big commercial acts.”

“I was never gonna enjoy the parties either way, so I may as well have DJs who draw a crowd and play shit tunes rather than good tunes with a shit crowd,” Underwood admitted. “I’m still running around like a ball of stress and drinking myself into an early grave, but cashing up at the end of the night is a lot more enjoyable.”

Statistics have revealed that nine out of ten promoters don’t enjoy their shows, while the other one out of ten promoters who actually enjoy their parties are psytrance promoter, who are, in fact, not promoters at all, they’re just crusties in a field with a sound system.

This groundbreaking piece of journalism is brought to you by How To Promote Good – Wunderground’s new comedy series & clubnight @ Hï Ibiza