Mash-up of Memoirs (Rameses B) and Not Giving In, Bondax Remix (Rudimental)

MEMORIES

DJ Kulture is 20 years old, and has been a DJ for twenty-one and a half years. He enjoys long strolls by the canal, naked mud wrestling, and Oxford commas. He some years ago made detailed blueprints for the design of a pirate ship roughly the size of a double-decker bus, which he one day hopes to construct and take onto the high seas.

The story behind DJ Kulture's name has entered the realms of modern mythology: some say he was born a rabbit, others claim he is the love-child of Madonna and an Arabian shoesmith, while others still insist that he transcended life on earth only to return with a host of heavenly bangers in his arms, so concerned was he by the lack of anthems in present-day England.

We pick up the curious tale in the northern tea plantations of Bangladesh. DJ Kulture (then "Ralph")was bicycling merrily through the rows of fragrant bushes, whistling pleasantly. Casting his eyes over the culture, he spotted something that made him pull sharply on the brakes. His bike skidded to a halt. There, underneath a Bodhi tree (DJ Kulture would later discover in one of his many books that Buddha was born in the shade of just such a tree) was a enchanting yellow glow. Along with the glow came a sound. The sound of bass.

DJ Kulture felt it hit his chest, vibrating through his heart and penetrating his very soul. Excited by this uniquely cultured incident, DJ Kulture edged closer to the bass-emitting light. When he was around 5 paces from the source of the glow, he saw it was a baby. The baby sat up and held his palm up in a sign of peace. DJ Kulture ("Raplh") returned the gesture uneasily. The baby stared intensely through DJ Kulture. It felt like minutes were passing. Hours. Months. The baby suddenly snapped onto its back and started cackling. DJ Kulture swooned and hit the dry, cracked earth. His last thought before he fell unconscious was "I hope I make BBC news."

When he awoke, DJ Kulture was in a monastery high on the side of a mountain. Though he didn't know it, the bright yellow baby had carried him here, to this Buddhist holy spot, in the upper hill climes of Bhutan. DJ Kulture was surprised when, feeling his face, he discovered he had a thick (and dashing) beard, which incidentally he still sports to this day. Clearly, he'd been "out cold" for days.

DJ Kulture walked, stark bollock naked, out of the bare room he'd awoken in. He turned down a corridor, and saw a yellow light at the end of the hall. DJ Kulture whispered a gravelly whisper: "who are you?"

"I am Buddha." replied the beacon of yellow light. DJ Kulture was very chuffed on hearing this news, feeling his culture rating hit new highs, and reminding himself to call his father for another bank transfer so that he could get highly intoxicated on a once-idyllic Thai island. "This is it," whispered our hero "I'm finally in the big-time."

"QUIET." shouted the baby hysterically. DJ Kulture staggered backwards as the light sped towards him, and in an instant the baby was it his throat, doughy arms rotating in their sockets madly as they ripped away at DJ Kulture's cheeks. The baby clawed both of DJ Kulture's eyes and bit a large chunk of his nose off. Once again, by the time the baby had gone about devouring the majority of DJ Kulture's face, DJ Kulture had blacked out.

DJ Kulture doesn't remember much else. He remembers waking up in a Sri Lankan brothel, with a towel over the remainder of his face. He remembers the pain-staking face transplant (he insisted on a face that would be able to support a cultured-looking beard). Most of all, he remembers the last words of the baby as it tore off his right ear:

"You shall be known as DJ Kulture. Go now, and spread the vibes."

Ever since his life-changing an endlessly interesting adventures on his gap year, DJ Kulture has done his utmost to appease the angry yellow baby, and to spread fine vibes throughout his new home city of Leeds.



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