Joe Theobald, aka DJ Captain Wormhole, Looks at all things vinyl 

THERE’S been such a great volume of politics taking place in the lives of UK residents these past few years that it’s perfectly understandable certain individuals have fallen foul of election fatigue.

The quantity of decision-making that’s been thrust upon us certainly reduces my youthful anarchistic enthusiasm for the implementation of a direct democracy, whereby we’d have to be more engaged, more active, and even more divided.

The democracy we enjoy, one of a representational nature, is analogous to the system which governs music selection in our clubs, bars and festivals. The DJ is our MP, we vote for him with our feet, we have a rough idea of what he’ll play, filtering out some of the more controversial preferences, but he takes on a good degree of autonomy with track selection.

When we don’t like him any more we just go dance somewhere else.

The DJ system is better than taking it in turns to cue up tracks on Spotify or a jukebox because, as well as the quality control and skill wielded by a decent DJ, the crowd are free to buy drinks and go outside for smokes and throw up in the loos etc.

The DJ has a record box/CD wallet/flash drive/laptop full of speeches, soundbites, heckles, awkward questions, evasive answers and the odd Private Members Bill.

If they’re made of the right stuff they get to play on the main stage at hyped festivals, they might even get a seasonal residency in one of the hottest clubs or economic summits.

Doing a dodgy last minute deal with a niche, right-wing, ultra-conservative political party is the equivalent of a Deep House promoter finding out at 11pm on a Friday night that he’s got a two-hour hole to plug in the set schedule and giving his mate Nick Grimshaw a ring - “Hi, Nick, got a bit of a sitch, you free tonight? Don’t worry if it’s pre-recorded or whateva, just go easy on the Little Mix yeah?”