Yeah, baby… gather round, twiddle your little dials, and try not to touch that antenna, because the name is Powers—Nigel Powers—and I’ve been hearing a lot about this chap called Propaganda. Talks about the broadcast. Talks about the signal. Wants everyone to listen, obey, submit, and believe. Groovy.

Now I don’t know much about cults, baby, but I know a thing or two about radios.

You see, growing up on the coast, we had a tiny little wireless in the kitchen. Half the time it worked, half the time it sounded like a seagull fighting a toaster. But here’s the important bit… when something rubbish came on, we didn’t fall to our knees and pledge our eternal loyalty.

We changed the channel.

Propaganda seems to think his signal is the only one in existence. That once you hear it, that’s it. Your brain locks in, your knees buckle, and suddenly you’re wearing a robe and chanting on a Tuesday night. Oh, behave.

Because that’s not how radios work.

There are loads of stations, baby. You’ve got angry shouting stations. Sad whispering stations. Stations that only play one song from 1987 over and over again. And then… you’ve got Nigel Powers FM.

Smooth. Upbeat. Slightly too loud. Plays nothing but confidence, cheeky winks, and the occasional “Yeah, baby.”

Propaganda says his signal is unavoidable. But funny thing is, I don’t hear it. I just hear a bloke droning on while I’m adjusting my cuffs and admiring myself in reflective surfaces. He’s broadcasting fear. I’m broadcasting vibes.

And vibes travel further.

See, Propaganda wants control. He wants everyone tuned to the same frequency, nodding in unison, believing every word. That’s like forcing the entire world to listen to the shipping forecast and calling it entertainment. No thank you, baby.

Nigel Powers prefers choice.

If a station makes you feel small… change it.

If a station tells you to obey… change it.

That’s my philosophy.

So when Propaganda steps into the ring, he thinks he’s bringing a mind-control device. A powerful transmission. A dominating broadcast. But what he’s really bringing is an old, dusty radio with a cracked dial.

And I’m very good with dials.

And here’s the thing, baby… I don’t even realise I’m dismantling his belief system.

I’m not fighting an ideology.

I’m just having a wrestling match.

That’s what makes me dangerous.

Propaganda’s entire world is built on everyone agreeing he’s important. My entire world is built on the unshakeable certainty that I’m already magnificent. And magnificence, baby, has excellent reception.

So when he’s screaming about the signal, about obedience, about submission, I’ll be doing what I always do.

Turning on the powers.

Because when the power is turned on, there’s no turning it off.

Different station.

Better vibes.

Higher volume.

Yeah, baby.

Oh, behave.