I went to a Catholic primary school where we were beaten by vicious nuns. Then I moved to Sedgehill High School where the height of aspiration was to knock a teacher out of a window. I remember this guy saying, ‘You talk all poncey like, dint ya?’
I had no idea what he was talking about. I found these South London kids so intimidating, they way they spoke. Fackin’ this, fackin’ that. The way they swore, woah, that hurt. I remember an old woman walking past when I said “You cunt.” And I saw her shrivel away, like, oh, I didn’t need to hear that. I would dearly like to go back and apologise to that woman.
My mum was fabulous until my late teens when she went ultra-religious. My eldest son thinks it was to do with losing her first child, my sister, who was a year older than me. Some of my kids think it was after she had that hysterical rectum operation, a hysterectomy.
That was very much the thing to do in the Fifties. Lots of women were put through that… ‘Oh, this’ll save you all those awful monthly problems.’ But I think it had to do with this deep-seated ‘Catholic girl trying to be good’ thing. Catholic guilt. It changed her completely.
I might warn my young self fame isn’t what it looks like from the outside. Oh no, goodness me. I thought the moment I had success everything would suddenly change. I wouldn’t argue with my wife any more, or my mum and dad. But everything was exactly the same. Except you’re selling shitloads of records and you’re on the telly. And now you have to really fight to hang on. Before the fight was nowhere near as hard. And everyone was cheering you on. Now you’re just competition and lots of
people want to see you fail.
Poor Rick, always trying to be the rock star his fans thought he was.
When I look back at how I behaved when we were first successful… oh dear. I suppose it’s helped me become more regimented as I get older, trying hard to do the right thing. I watched Rick [Parfitt, Quo bandmate who died aged 68 in December 2016], somebody I loved dearly, who was such a great friend, become a caricature of himself. He had this archetypal hard-rock look that people loved. But he wasn’t that person inside. Poor Rick, always trying to be the rock star his fans thought he was. The poor shit was in such a mess. To me he was soiling the very person I liked. I’d be thinking, don’t do that Rick. That’s where the problems between us came from. And he said to me once, “I’m fed up being number two.” Well that was obviously going to put a wedge between us.