I first went to the Cokie in about 1985, all my mates hassling me to go, didn't have any "going-out" shoes, only trainies at that age so had to borrow a pair. Only lad with feet big enough to lend me a pair of shoes wore size 14's. I was an 11 or 12. He lent me a pair of slip on size 14 shoes. Got changed and went in on my jack, got past the door, past the arl girl on the till and up the stairs. Never been in before, looking for a familiar face in the semi-dark, tripping over these psychedelic tree roots in these fucking clown shoes, sticking to the "carpet", spilling my bevy everywhere, great days.
Spent most Fridays and Saturdays in there, Sundays sometimes although it was mostly for posers on a Sunday, who would mostly inhabit the "more exclusive" top bar. We used to go on a Wednesday for a while and they used to do a "spin the wheel" type of thing, when a large wheel with various options would be spun by a "selected" member of the crowd, and it would stop on "half price beer" or "doubles for a pound" which would last for half an hour until the wheel would be spun again.
I remember a former acquaintance who was always looking to impress the owner Mr McGorrin and Head Doorman Brummie "winning" a bottle of Southo one night in a staged raffle. Instead of keeping it intact and giving it back at the end of the night as per instructions it was opened and consumed by one and all. Rest assured he never did that again !
Door staff were always great, dealt quickly with any trouble and we used to regularly see miscreants removed from the club via the back doors in the corner. Saw plenty of trouble outside though, with pitched battles in Green Lane and coaches from out of town being boarded outside the club and a few heads knocked together.
Also remember a local lad who was an absolute ringer for one of Bros, a popular beat combo of the day. The Cokie had by this point started up a kids disco on a Wednesday afternoon or something, and we had mentioned the Bros thing to an always business-savvy Brummie. "Bring him down on Wednesday" he said, and he had all these fliers and posters done advertising that one of Bros would be turning up to the kids disco as a VIP. We duly turned up with our mate, half an hour after the doors opened, him resplendent in a leather jacket, gelled hair, funny kecks and the shoes with the Grolsch caps on them. A few of the lads went in as his security and all the kids went fucking wild, ripping his clobber and screaming. They had to fight to get him back out. Fucking great days.
Had the pleasure of a few beers with Jan Molby a couple of years ago and I asked whether he still kept in touch with Brummie. He said he did, and that Brummie was well and living up in the Scottish Highlands. He never knew me more than any other punter but he was always fair and would always let on, even if you saw him in town or away from the Cokie.
