“I JUST LOVE IT ALL. I’M A BIKER, END OF STORY”
Carl Cox is giggling like a schoolkid. “My phone rings and it’s Valentino… He says, ‘Ciao Carl, we just landed Melbourne. We get a car, we come say hi and then we go to Phillip Island. Where do you live? Okay, we see you in 45 minutes’.
“Whaaaat??!! So I call a few mates, ‘Rossi’s coming round my house!’. So they stop whatever they’re doing and we’re getting the barbie going… ‘Ding, ding,’ goes the doorbell. ‘Ciao guys, how’s it going?’ says Valentino. Jaws on the floor.
“We have the barbie, then he says, ‘I’m a bit tired, is it okay if I have a sleep?’. I’ve got this big chair in the kitchen, so we put a blanket over him and there he is tucked up in the corner. I’m thinking, this is fucking bizarre, it really is. I know people who’d sell their firstborn for this! I’m just about keeping it together…”
Cox isn’t namedropping. The 60-year-old house and techno DJ is bubbling over with boyish enthusiasm, still struggling to compute what’s happened to him since he got back into motorcycling in his 40s,
