DJs of the world, it's time for you to take a gawk at the future. Right now, the latest global gathering of dope fiends, steroid abusers and chemically-enhanced physiques has everyone looking to Athens with awe, writes Jim Carroll.
On your TV screen tonight, you will see examples of courage, bravery, extreme human endeavour, art and euphoric celebrations which the gardaí in Galway would probably tut-tut over. You have paid for your TV licence so that you can enjoy this rare insight into the exotic worlds of synchronised diving, women's water polo and running target shooting. Please note that I did not make that last sport up, despite what you may think.
DJs of the world, this is where you come in. Forget superclubs and clubs-in-pubs and putting together mixes for 2FM which are played at four in the morning and prepare for - roll those drums, blow those trumpets, burst those balloons - the DJ Olympics.
Let's be honest, folks, this DJ-ing lark is on its last legs. The kids have found they can have a lot more fun with guitars, drums and girl bass-players. The twentysomethings who should be living large every night of the week have discovered that living large now means kids, mortgages on semi-detached houses in Monasterevin and extreme decking of the gardening kind.
The thirtysomethings, meanwhile, are more interested in acquiring Norah Jones CDs and Jamie Oliver cookbooks than spending all night listening to esoteric deep house, microhouse and Wendy house selections in some chi-chi bar. That only leaves the fortysomethings and die-hard ravers like Irvine Welsh, so the game is well and truly up, sports fans.
The DJ Olympics, though, will change all of this. Kids traditionally rush into their gardens and backyards to emulate what they've just seen on the telly, so the DJ Olympics will bring a future boom in turntables, headphones and silly vest tops that only look good on David Morales.
In the past, kids emulating their cathode ray sporting heroes wanted to play cricket like Brian Lara, kick people in the shins like Roy Keane, grunt and groan like Jimmy Connors and jump over fences like Eddie Macken on Boomerang. After the DJ Olympics, they will want to be as grumpy as Dave Clarke, as anodyne as Paul Oakenfold and as trancetastic as DJ Tiesto.
Actually, it was the appearance of the bould Tiesto at the opening hullabaloo in Athens which you can blame for this particular bright idea. The man who gives trance anthems a bad name and then plays them, Tiesto is probably still behind the decks over there at the Olympic stadium, pumping out the boom-boom-breakdown-boom-boom-another-breakdown-boom hits, caught up in the sheer excitement of it all and wondering where everyone has gone.
But if Tiesto can make it to the opening ceremony of the Olympics, there's hope for the rest of the double-decks set. Forget throwing a shot-putt or flinging a discus, for instance. What about throwing records? The man our money is on to take gold in this particular sport is Sasha, especially after his recent record-throwing exploits in Cardiff. After a record began to skip while he was DJ-ing, Sasha took it off the deck and flung it angrily into the air. The record catapulted off the ceiling, struck a girl in the audience and brought an early end to the night. While there is the small matter of the dope tests to sort out, there is little doubt that the DJ Olympics could have a huge effect on clubbing and dance music. Before you know it, the superclubs will be full once again of people happy to pay good money to see old men playing records, trance tunes will return to the top of the charts and DJs will be respected rather than shunned on the streets.
Let the games begin.
