Boy George (born George Alan O'Dowd) was the iconic lead singer of the hugely successful 1980s band Culture Club. Now 48, he is an author, solo artist and a leading dance music DJ.

This is me, aged ten, at Eltham Green Secondary School – looking quite cheesy. My school days were not hugely illustrious, as you will see.

I was born George Alan O'Dowd in Bexley, Kent, and grew up in Eltham, south-east London, until I was 11, when we moved to nearby Woolwich.

My dad, Gerry, and Mum, Dinah, were from Ireland, and I was the third child of six: brothers, Richard, David, Kevin and Gerald, and sister Siobhan. My father had his own building and decorating firm, and their motto was 'We work to a standard – not a price!', which made me laugh.

Boy George- real name George O'Dowd - pictured aged ten: 'My school days were not hugely illustrious' he says

All my brothers worked for my father, except for me – I painted and decorated myself instead. I loved my infants school, Middle Park, in Eltham, which was in the basement of the main school.

The kids were very happy and the teachers were mumsy and cuddly. The atmosphere gave no warning of what was to come once you moved upstairs to 'real' school.

My loathing of school started when I left the infants school – I just remember lots of shouting and canings. We had an Irish headmaster, and he once caned one of my brothers up on stage at assembly.

My mother was furious. She marched up to the school brandishing her handbag and, while the headmaster was giving her a lot of blarney about the old country, Mum said, 'If I wasn't a lady I'd put this bag round your head.'

At the time, I had a weird skin allergy. If you tapped me or scratched me, my skin would raise and look red and angry. A teacher slapped me round the face once – not very hard – and I had this huge hand print on my face for ages.

Of course, I milked it. I used to do everything I could to get off school. I was very close to my mum and just wanted to hang out with her. I followed her everywhere and remember lots of visits to the council and other seemingly boring places, but I was completely happy.

By then I was very chatty. I also had a bit of a cleaning obsession. I'd get in trouble for trying to hoover round people when guests were there. So, at home, I'd be either hoovering or cleaning in the kitchen trying to listen to the adult conversations – and then joining in.

I was always getting told off for that, too. When I did manage to visit school, I was good at art, not bad at English – and appalling at maths. At one point, I ended up in the special needs class for maths.

We used to have temporary teachers and the class was full of unruly brats. Nothing ever got done.

George left school with no qualifications: 'I missed every exam'

I left school with absolutely no qualifications. I missed every exam. Once I'd learned to read and write, I wasn't interested in school any more.

I wasn't much good at sport either, but I was quite a good swimmer. I was even briefly in the school team.

Instead, I was obsessed with David Bowie and would draw lots of pictures of him and Marc Bolan – I did at least get lots of compliments for my art work.

All my friends were female – all the troublemakers.

Maybe because my mother was a bit under my dad's thumb, any kind of wild woman fascinated me.

I loved them, just as I loved seeing Shirley Bassey on telly. I was amazed by her and Joan Collins.

I found strong, glamorous women inspiring. I remember going to a few school music lessons and learning to play Greensleeves.

Not my cup of tea, I'm afraid. I wanted to learn T-Rex's Get It On. I was musical, and knew I wanted to be involved in that world, but I didn't really fancy the recorder.

When I got to Eltham Green I discovered bunking off. My parents had no idea, because I used to intercept all the teachers' letters. In the end they sent around 55 letters, so my mum finally found out I hadn't been to school for seven weeks.

Instead, I'd been wandering round the shops, hiding in the nearby forest, sitting in trees, or going to the homes of other boys who were bunking off. I was kicked out of school at 15.

Once that happened in our house you had to work to earn your keep. 'This is not a hotel!' my mum used to say. I got all sorts of odd jobs: I was a runner for a printing firm, and worked in a fruit factory.

It was the late 1970s and the punk scene was at its height. I knew a lot of people in bands. Watching them perform was exciting, but many couldn't sing or play their instruments. I thought, 'If they can do it, so can I.'

In the early 1980s I formed Culture Club with Jon Moss, Mikey Craig and Roy Hay. They were real musicians and taught me a lot. My parents had been very mystified by me for ages. They were quite despairing about it all.

I was into the New Romantic style of the early Eighties, and even before Culture Club hit the big time I'd been DJ-ing and creating my image. I'd go home with clippings of myself in magazines – I was even on the cover of Stern, one of the best-known magazines in Germany – and my parents didn't know why.

Finally, they dared to ask, 'What do you do?' and when I said, 'I've got a band', they were really relieved. At last they understood there was a good reason for my androgynous looks and flamboyant personality.

Boy George's new single, Amazing Grace, is out now. His UK tour starts at London's Leicester Square Theatre on 9 April

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Alan chats with Boy George about prison and his upcoming tour.