Back in the days of '97', when the folk of old trusted youngsters with a set of keys, a revolution was about to occur... Yes ladies and gentlemen !! A Revolution ! (or to be more exact , lots & lots of revolutions at an average rate of 33 per minute)

One misty autumn's eve (or 'fall' if you're from USA) , there came a gathering of the most unlikely people you would ever hope to meet:-

a wake-boarder, a fork-lift driver, a water-ski instructor, a horse-riding instructor, an almighty computer boff and a vertically challenged snooker hall barmaid.....

What could any of these people possibly have in common I hear you say....

One small word ladies and gentlemen......that higher form of art we call.........

Somehow they ended up in the same place at the same time in one of those, now obsolete, hand made huts that used to scatter the English countryside.

Strangely enough, none of them could remember the exact time that the revolution began, but they all knew that something was ,how they say, about to "go off !" and none of them wanted to miss it.

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It was a cold and stormy night as the wind blew left and right and the captain said.......

There.......................................................................now you know how we initially met.

left to right - Wax equestriaN, Dicky, Sidetrakka, Pokey, Little

Click on the names to go into individual DJ pages

I haven't always been Sidetrakka , you understand.

A true DJ will have changed his or her DJ name at least three times before making it big. I have previously been "The Fonz" and the ever popular "Space Pop". Somehow Sidetrakka seemed apt and so here it stayed.

Now this boy was the initial cog in the blender. He was, in the first instance, a shit hot donkey riding DJ, which was cool. In the second instance he happened to be a key holder of a not so local water-ski centre's club house which was also, cool.

As prime keyholder I chose for him the title of DJ instigator Extraordinaire.... but "Pokey" will do fine!

I also met Steve through Pokey, Steve and Pokey grew up together (well as far as it is humanly possible!) Steve also has an alias..... "Eric". The reason for this is because Eric doesn't even rhyme with Steve, good eh? He is a music critic, pill popper and dance partner rolled into one . Shame his spliffs aren't rolled like that!! (He knows what I mean).

If you analyse the term 'disc jockey' it 's a bit of a nonsense term. So therefore why not cross other meanings of the term 'disc' (vinyl wax) with the riding of the donkey or horse (equestrian) in an even more ridiculous way. Put em together and whad'ya get?..... a high class DJ, or 'the Wax Equestrian', and so he is and so he does. Jammy bugger!

left to right - Pokey, Dicky, Sidetrakka, Little, Wax equestriaN

Pokey was a water-ski instructor and a mobile Dj.

First impressions lead you to believe that you had just had an ordinary introduction to a well spoken, unassuming (but quite pissed) nice guy. The only clue to the naughtiness within was a filthy laugh. You know.. up there with Sid James and Barbara Windsor!. (see any 'Carry On' film)

Steve and Pokey grew up in an infamous bronx in a small town, in an area known as Berkshire. They basically did boys stuff together, you know drink, eat, feck, smoke, etc.

Pokey was the Dj and Steve was the Dj's right hand man. There ain't no pussy magnet like a Dj and his right hand man pussy magnet ......Those were the days.

While Steve and Pokey were pulling and playing respectively, Pokey was starting to get himself a name... professionally that is.

One of the parties he played at was for a taxi driver's birthday. The taxi driver wouldn't normally be of relevance here except a mate of the taxi driver had invited this other Dj along. Both the taxi driver and his mate had heard separate tapes of both Dj's but neither had listened to both. A strange merger had taken place and Pokey and the Wax Equestrian had their first one on one fine filly vinyl experience , which set the pace for the future, and to this day leaves them mentally unable to dismount the decks at times.

I now regress back to the water-ski centre and refer (or should that be reefer ?) yet again to our faithful friend Pokey.

Whilst Pokey basked in the sun on a busy afternoon at work his attention was drawn to one of the local kids getting a right bollocking by the boss. Apparently this 13 year old little skinny geezer drove the tractor around and around the lake making it do jumps and wheelies, with his mate hanging off the back. The tractor broke and that was it.

The meeting of mischief............Pokey and Dicky have been finding loopholes ever since..... and then I showed up..............

Would you Adam'n'Eve it. Guess who I met first? You got it! Actually it was Steve and Pokey at the same time. ( lucky me!). It was a simple enough introduction really. After that I went to see Pokey play out on a Sunday evenings a few times but never really got to know any of them.

One night, when I had been given the tepid elbow ( cold shoulder) by my so called mates I was persuaded to go to a party at a snooker hall. Pokey was the Dj for the night.

Picture this......... A skinny little geezer jumping around like Michael Bentine (look up 'the Goons' and 'Potty Time') was swinging a microphone above his head. The microphone connects and the skinny little geezer falls over, gets up and starts again.

As all the above takes place, An even skinnier little geezer (then 16 yr. old) was performing a dance routine behind the decks whilst flicking through CD's. (I like their style)

So to another episode... To quote De-La-Soul, "Everyone wants 2 b a DJ, everyone wants 2 b an mc"...

well I do anyway - a DJ that is.

There comes a time in one's life, that playing around with party ball just doesn't cut it anymore. We wanted to be the holders (owners even) of the party ball.

After hours (pub ones ) at the ski club, Pokey would let us in.

Pokey, Dicky ,Steve and sometimes Wax and would get busy setting up the decks and turning on the sounds. Me... I would do nothing (it's a girl thing) but wait for my ears to be blasted by the ...... silence.

Choice words would be said and, as if programmed, they would start wiring up all over again. Any rogue leads or cables would be bastardised and then kept in the bodge bag for future reference.

Once the wheels of steel were rotating and the speakers actually making a noise other than a low hum, there was no stopping them. Pokey whacked out the most mental tunes for hours on end whilst Dicky ,Eric and I were either jumping around, playing pool, or best of five on 'connect four'. The winner had to make tea!

When Wax managed to grace us with his presence it went one on one all night. Ooh spinbacktasic....

Then ......if my memory serves me well (which is unlikely) I was sitting astride a big yellow banana, listening to a noise, not too far removed from the Grand National.

In between all this noise was Music.

This was Dicky giving his all to connect two records together and Pokey giving advice over his shoulder. When Dicky had had enough, Pokey suggested that I might like to give it a whirl. Yeah right! But then again............

So there I was riding the donkey (or so I thought), making a total balls up of it and loving every minute. That's all it took and bingo I was hooked.

  So in the end, there was Pokey, Wax, Dicky, and I fighting for our time on the decks. Obviously Pokey and Wax went on first. This started to become a bit of a problem once Dicky and I gained more confidence. Hmm, what does one do when there are two DJ's, two apprentices and only one set of decks... I know! Borrow plenty of dollars from those with bottomless pits and get another set of decks! See easy when you know how. Big shout going out to Pappa Dick !

It is about here, that the fun really began...

Having been taught all of the basics over and over again by the ever tolerant Mixmaster general (Pokey).

Dickey and I were as keen as mustard to crack on and master the wheels of steel. However... As a result of our clubbing the tunes to death (Pokey words not ours). We were soon banished to the kitchen armed with two Technics 1210's. One amp, one 10" x 10" battle mixer and about 20 tunes between us.

This helped tremendously on both sides. Pokey and/or Wax could at last finish a tape without barracking from Dicky and me.

Eric could continue to dance around without the feeling that it was him going out of time to the music and Dicky and I could crack on and pat each other on the back without having "LEVELS!" shouted in our ears all the time !

It was whilst Dicky and I were whoop whooping to each mix that I exclaimed something along the lines of ... "Wa - hey! Welcome to the Kitchen Club!" And so the Kitchen Club was born.

And as they say "Out of tiny acorns do big trees grow"....or something like that anyway.

Pokey & Wax first met Little when they used to DJ at a fine (ahem) public drinking establishment called the 'Heart of Oak' (or more appropriately known by us as 'the Joke'.)

Pokey's Sunday rockers disco tested his devotion to the cause to the max.

Little's constant barracking & grief , however, tested his professionalism to a much greater extent!!

Here was a 'little' , gobby, ginger 5th former , who he didn't know from Adam , drinking in HIS local , giving HIM 'all that' & asking for the latest release of 'take that' !!!

This is where the Phrase "I DON'T DO F@CKIN' REQUESTS" comes from.

They've been mates ever since.

Little has since crept in under the door of the Kitchen Club and has been secretly spying and learning how to mix records...and can now go for quite a rough gallop without falling off

So there u have it, 5 DJ's and 1 Steric . The core members of the Kitchen Club (there are others too who play their parts, but we will go into them later.)

So now you've read all about us, how about actually hearing what we do ?

We're all friendly people and most of us won't bite you