The News Boy George Fabulous

"Everywhere I go in the world people know me, but I'm not really a pop star, I'm not successful, I don't have a career. I'm just really famous."

Last night, George kicked off a series of shows in UK theatres, his first tour in 10 years. "It's about getting out there and reminding people this is what I do, because I've become like a road sweeper, kidnapper, bitchy guy that gets wheeled out to slag everyone off. Less talking, more singing - that's my motto."

It would be a pity if George O'Dowd was to stop talking, but I don't think there's much chance of that. He may be trying to be more discreet, but he remains a hugely entertaining and outrageous conversationalist. And he obviously has plenty to talk about. "I act impulsively and follow my instincts," he says of recent legal problems. "All of my life I have been told I'm not like everybody else, so it's kind of become a habit. It's too late to stop now!"

George is well aware that his provocative flamboyance distracts from his real talent, a hoarse, soulful voice and a gift for writing eloquent, melodic, pithy pop songs. "I am responsible for creating an idea of myself, which hasn't helped me as an artist. But I don't think of myself as a made-up character. I might get a little more spiky when I put make-up on, a little more confident and bitchy, but I'm still the same person. The stuff that motivates me never goes away, I'm always immersed in it."

His solo career in the '90s was hugely diverse but not particularly stellar. "The word career bores me. Any artists from my generation who have managed to keep their careers have only done it by sacrificing anything good about themselves. I'd rather have my records ignored and know that they're ****ing great!"

An initially successful reunion with Culture Club in 1998 quickly fell apart. "I realised our reasons for making music were totally at odds. They were happy to go out and do all those hits for ever. It was hideous. Hideous! I didn't become a musician to be miserable."

In the intervening years, he has established a dance record label (More Protein), designer clothing label (B-Rude), been a club DJ, talk radio host, written two memoirs and composed songs for the theatrical musical Taboo, based on his early life in the New Romantic scene. George also appeared in the production. The show ran for two years in London's West End, before transferring disastrously to Broadway, where it closed in 2004 after 100 performances. "I didn't want to come back to London with my tail between my legs. So I stayed in New York and developed a coke habit."

In 2005, after falsely reporting a burglary, he was required to do community service, leading to his humiliating appearance before paparazzi as a street-sweeper. Even worse, he had to go home to face his mother.

"She is a real matriarch. The whole scene was like a mafia movie: 'Mum's in the bedroom, go upstairs.' She just sat there; she doesn't have to say much. She's the sort of person who can fill the whole house with sadness. That was the thing that was the most upsetting beause I knew that she would be devastated." He laughs guiltily. "And I continue to do it."

A heavily styled, flamboyantly made-up pop star who sings soulful, intimate love songs and is a magnet for trouble in their personal life - now who does that remind you of? "I love Amy Winehouse. My favourite thing was seeing her going into Shoreditch police station because that's where I was nicked. It's obviously the pop star cop shop.

"She looks as if she should be in a John Waters movie, the pencil skirt, the beehive, always slightly dizzy. She reminds me of myself in the early days of Culture Club. She really inspired me to sing again. For me, the measure of a great singer is whether they make me cry. I love George Michael's voice, but he never made me cry. Amy makes it sound so effortless, but she's not faking it. It comes down to a complete package, feeling it, doing it, living it."

Despite his other pursuits, George says he has never stopped writing songs. "I've got hundreds. It's the way I try to make sense of everything.Relationships stir my songs - the injustice of love, so wonderful and in another breath baffling. You can't prove love. Everyone feels it differently. It's really just in our imaginations."

He points out that his late father, Jeremiah O'Dowd, left his mother, Dinah, for another woman, only a few years before he died in 2004. "She was having a go at me recently about a relationship that I was having that she decided wasn't healthy, 'Where's it going?' she said. I went 'Mum, Dad left you after 47 years. Where's anything going?' She slapped me really hard. But it was true. Love is a bit like God: you just have to put a lot of faith into it and believe that whatever the person is feeling is real, even if it's a battle to convince yourself."

His geniality and candour make George easy company, but the complex emotions that drive him are never too far from the surface. He is clearly concerned about reasserting himself in the public's eyes as a genuine talent. "I feel as if I'm starting from scratch," he says. Yet when I suggest that he might benefit from going before his public without make-up, he is horrified and a little offended. And, despite the fact that he is unadorned for our interview, and looks perfectly fine, he refuses to have his picture taken by the photographer.

"Why should I not wear make-up? It doesn't get in the way with Amy, so why should it with me? Because she's a girlie? People should have got over it by now. At this stage of the game, it's not about shocking people. I just think I look prettier with make-up on. I've got some magic: I pull when I've got make-up on. I'm not going to dismantle myself just to prove I've grown up."

If the reaction seems over-the-top, its roots run deep. "Gay people are raised in a veil of silence, no one talks about it because to talk is to encourage it. So you spend your life knowing there's something wrong with you. It never goes away, and suddenly you are expected to think like everyone else? It's too late. I don't want to compromise. I enjoy being who I am."

And yet, despite his protests, Boy George is an elaborate construct and admits as much when he explains why he always turns down reality TV shows. "The whole point of being a pop star was to avoid reality; I don't want anything to do with it. I don't want people to know I'm ordinary and boring. Ziggy Stardust in Sainsbury's - it's just not a good look."

What he does want is a chance to express himself again, doing what he loves. "I don't want to go, 'Hey, George is back!' because I haven't really been anywhere. I'm not trying to have a pop career, I just want a bit of credibility."