Controversy seems to dog Boy George's footsteps like an unwelcome stage door stalker. The former lead singer of 80s band Culture Club has always been outspoken and it seems he hasn't mellowed.
 Allegedly he has branded Little Britain star Matt Lucas a "prissy, niggly diva", verbally attacked Sir Elton John for duetting with rapper Eminem, who has been criticised for his homophobic lyrics, and accused Madonna of being a hypocrite for using the gay community to boost her career. He also criticised George Michael for not coming out earlier and then getting arrested in a Los Angeles lavatory. But as we meet in London, a make-up free George, dressed down in black wool jacket and faded pink trousers, says his comments have been taken out of context. Indeed, many of the news-making lines have been gleaned from the second volume of his autobiography, Straight. "If you read the stuff in context, it's not mindlessly bitchy," he insists. "Anyone that feels they've been slighted should just read it and see that it's quite well rounded. "I've read reports that I hate Madonna, but I don't hate anyone. I do criticise her, but she is a woman of extremes. I think Madonna's really interesting." He met Matt Lucas when the comedian appeared in George's West End musical, Taboo, which centred on 80s club culture. "We just didn't get on. I don't think there's any love lost between me and Matt whatsoever." It's 15 years since George had to deal with the fall-out from drug addiction, the failure of his relationship with Culture Club drummer Jon Moss and the collapse of the band. Today, he is charming, despite having been out clubbing until 5am. "I was in a club last night and some guy walked up and said, `I wish I was gay, because I love you'," he laughs. "That would never happen in New York." Sporting a close-cropped haircut and a large Star of David tattoo on his head, there's none of the trademark bad behaviour, although he says he still has tantrums. "I'm definitely a lot less volatile than I was 10 or 15 years ago. One of the aspects of celebrity that I've always been uncomfortable with is people fussing around you." You get the feeling that behind the bitchiness lies a vulnerable soul. He's been on several spiritual journeys to India, been through six years of therapy and is still trying to understand aspects of himself. His father, Jerry O'Dowd, to whom he had not spoken since his parents divorced, died last year and he has been agonising over his feelings for him since then. "When it happened, I felt everything at the same time - numb, angry, nothing. It goes in waves. One day you are feeling really sorry because you wish you'd made that phone call, but you always think you've got more time. "Other times, you'd be sitting there laughing about some of the dreadful things my dad did. My dad could fill the house with terror in one roar." He never felt the need to forgive his father and acknowledges that he is like him in many ways. "With death there is a tendency to romanticise the past, to recreate history as you want it to be. My main concern was for mum's well-being because I felt she had suffered far more than she deserved." George is now happily drugs-free and hardly drinks. So have his demons been laid to rest? "No, I don't think the demons ever go. Romantics never recover. I definitely have very self-destructive qualities but I try to keep them in check." He is still looking for a stable relationship, he says. "I'm an optimist where romance is concerned. As I get older one of the things I've accepted is that you have to take risks and you have to risk being disappointed. But you shouldn't give up." He realises many people think he's retired or is some desperate figure trying to claw his way back to fame, but says it doesn't bother him now. He has long since emptied the walls of his Hampstead home of all the gold discs acquired in the band's heyday, storing them or giving them away and now lives in relative harmony with a female friend in New York. There were too many obstacles for him to stay in London, and Radio 1 doesn't play his records, he says. "It was getting harder for me to move beyond people's limited perceptions of what I was capable of as a creative person. I was bored of it." He has continued to record on his own label but doesn't yearn for the dizzy heights of Culture Club. "I never thought I'd become the artist that I did become. It wasn't my plan. I never for a second imagined that little girls would have pictures of me on their wall. "That kind of mania was from a different generation and I'm not interested in it. I want to make enough money to do what I want and be comfortable." * Straight by Boy George with Paul Gorman (Century, £17.99) | 
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