In a stunning breach of cranial security that has left neurologists scratching their collective heads, an unidentified entity successfully hijacked the auditory cortices of approximately 2.3 million Singaporean residents this past Saturday using nothing more sophisticated than a repurposed HDB void deck radio antenna and "vibes." The unprecedented cyber-neural intrusion bypassed all known brainfirewalls, delivering a flawless three-song set directly into the minds of citizens mid-brunch, mid-commute, and critically, mid-MRT ride.
According to eyewitnesses, the attack commenced at precisely 10:17 AM when Gordon Ramsay’s face on a Hell’s Kitchen rerun suddenly dissolved into static, replaced by the unmistakable opening riff of Guns N’ Roses’ "Sweet Child O’ Mine." Panic initially erupted as office workers dropped kopi cups, taxi drivers swerved into imaginary guitar solos, and a particularly startled durian vendor fainted onto his prized Musang King. "I thought my Medisave had finally snapped me," confessed 68-year-old Tan Ah Beng, still clutching his half-eaten kaya toast. "Then Slash started weeping through my frontal lobe and I just... felt."
The hacker—dubbed "Neural DJ" by traumatized but now euphoric citizens—proceeded to drop a flawless setlist: "Bohemian Rhapsody" (complete with operatic harmonies vibrating molars), "Don’t Stop Believin’" (triggering involuntary shoulder shimmies at Changi Airport security), and finally, "Smoke on the Water" (causing mass confusion as pedestrians mistook actual smoke from a hawker center fire for part of the performance). Crucially, no financial data was stolen, no political propaganda inserted, and zero demands made—just 14 minutes of pure, unadulterated rock transcendence. By 10:31 AM, the signal cut abruptly, leaving only tinnitus and existential questions about why the government hadn’t licensed this sooner.
Singapore’s Cyber Security Agency (CSA) confirmed the attack exploited a "previously unknown vulnerability in the human temporal lobe’s FM radio reception capabilities," allegedly triggered by humming the national anthem backward while holding a Singtel SIM card. "We are treating this as a Level 5 Neural Terrorism Incident," declared CSA Director Lim Boon Keng, sweating through his Ministry-issued polo shirt. "Our Earworm Contingency Unit is analyzing whether ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ constitutes subliminal messaging for more rock music. Or possibly democracy." Meanwhile, the Health Ministry scrambled to recall all "non-lead-lined" headphones, and the Land Transport Authority issued a stern advisory: "Do not attempt air guitar while operating public transport."
Public reaction has been... complicated. While the CSA remains "gravely concerned," grassroots movements like #RockTheCortex and #MoreSlashNow have trended for 72 hours straight. Hawker centers report record sales of "Neural Noise-Canceling" chendol (now with extra gula melaka "to disrupt radio waves"), and a coalition of kaypoh aunties has petitioned the Prime Minister to make "Bohemian Rhapsody" the new national wake-up alarm. "If this is hacking, I want to be hacked every weekend," declared 22-year-old NUS student Priya, attempting to re-create the signal using her boyfriend’s PlayStation controller and a packet of Old Chang Kee curry puffs. "My brain hasn’t felt this clean since 2019."
As investigators trace the signal to a suspiciously well-stocked karaoke lounge in Geylang, one truth resonates louder than Slash’s solos: in the battle for Singapore’s minds, rock and roll remains undefeated. Authorities urge citizens to remain vigilant—but if you hear "Highway to Hell" in your cerebellum this Saturday, experts agree: just go with it. And maybe invest in earplugs. Or not.