Dan kicks it off.. – “I always enjoy zipping up to Scotland. People up there really know how to enjoy themselves. Especially the promoters. I’ve had some of the messiest nights ever with the likes of the Rhumba Club’s Zammo who I once piled two hotel beds, the desk and chair, a kettle and all of the bed linen and pillows on top him when he passed out on me. I then left and got a train home. And the Slam boys – too cool for school and musically perfect. However, they have nothing on Ricky Magowan who runs Colours. This guy is loop the loop; appearing at after parties with a toothbrush up his arse, walking around hotel lobbies in the nude, taking the whole of the club back to his house for a party, standing in the DJ booth with his nob out – he has no shame. So let’s go back to 1989 and his ‘Streetrave’ night at The Ayr Pavillion. Basically a rave in an old bingo hall that was mobbed every time with amazing DJs and live artists. So then, the first time I went was a little interesting to say the least. John Digweed, The Prodigy and Shades of Rhythm entertaining the 1500 nutty Scottish throng. Ricky took me into the back room for a cheeky one – and then proceeded to piss all over his desk in front of me. Back out in the club in the meantime a guy had walked into the club wearing a full length leather coat, sought out someone he was obviously a little peeved with and stabbed him with a three foot sabre sword. Cue twenty police arriving in minutes and an Inspector stopping the music, standing on stage in full uniform and telling everyone they would have to ALL make statements before they could leave. Myself and Ricky climbed out of the office window and left everyone else to talk to the police off their heads with blood all over the dancefloor whilst we nipped off to the boozer for a pint.”
And over to Miss Miranda… – “Amongst my many talents, I am a former champion at getting the boot from clubs for illegal activities. Unfortunately – it never went unnoticed. The first time I introduced myself to Sasha he looked at me oddly, or maybe he didn’t – I was on a Ketamine pill at the time and said to me, “Oh yeah, I know you, you’re always getting thrown out of clubs for doing drugs”. Fantastic. But it was true – I even received a lifetime ban from the short lived Leicester Square club Home for doing coke in the loos on the opening night. Then there was getting caught in Bar Rhumba racking up in the DJ booth. “You can’t do that in here,” says this massive bloke tapping me on the shoulder. “Yeah? Says who?” – “Well me, I own the club,” came the reply – whoops! By far the worst ejection was when I drove up to Sundissential at Pulse in Birmingham straight from the Homelands festival. I had organised a meet up with 30 of Mixmag’s reader reviewers (the Let’s Ave It Coroporation) and I was about four hours late arriving. Hurrying into the club with a Technics bag full of overnight stuff was a red rag to the bouncers – who delighted in festooning my smalls around the foyer, before rooting around down the back of my mobile phone case (remember them?). Mrs Bouncer pulled out four pills and looked erm, slightly cross. “We’re going to have to call the manager,” she said gruffly as I sweated like a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Ten minutes later and the equally livid manager was berating me in his office, holding the pills out in his palm, about two inches from my nose. “I should call the police,” he barked, but I wasn’t listening. “Can’t I just keep one?” I asked. “They’re really, really good…”
