2. When
did you start wearing glasses?
Seriously when I was 13. I needed to wear them much sooner but glasses
had this awful thing attached to them that if you wore them you were
a horrible green monster and you'd be shot in the middle of the street.
So I was forced to wear them at 13 and I've stuck with them ever since.
3. What
did your parents do for a living?
Very spectacular jobs. One was a librarian and one worked in a hospital.
Who did what? Elizabeth, my mother, is the librarian. Peter, my father,
works in the hospital. Yes we still keep in touch, every day.
4. Were
you good at sport?
Miraculous. It was the only thing I was good at and I used to love
it completely. The 100 metres was my raison d'etre. Yes, I
won everything. I was a terrible bore when it came to athletics. I was
just the type of person everyone despises so I've carried on in that
tradition.
5. When
did you leave home?
I left spasmodically and I returned home spasmodically for years.
I was never very good at it. I think the first time was when I was 17
and the last when I was 23. I just went to the usual foul, decrepit
bedsits that simply crush your imagination.
6. Were
you ever a punk?
Not in the traditional sense. I did like lots of it. I did see most
of the important groups and I was incredibly aware at the time... but
a punk as far as style goes I never was.
7. What
did you want to be when you grew up?
Oh, I'm afraid I always wanted to be a librarian. To me that seemed
like the perfect life: solitude; absolute silence; tall, dark libraries.
But then they started to become very modern, you know, these little
pre-fabs and they had no romance whatsoever. So suddenly the idea had
no fascination for me. I also wanted to be what I am now, all the time,
but I think when you want to sing and you want to enter popular music,
you're convinced by everybody that it's an absurd notion, that it's
childish, and it's a whim and it's diseased - which of course it is
- and you're always badgered out of it. So I thought well, perhaps it
is these things, but I'm going to try it anyway.
8. What's
the worst illness you've ever had?
Probably being on the dole. I always consider that to be an absolute
illness. A physical illness? I've not really had anything.
9. Do you
drink or smoke?
I have spasms of wine but I don't smoke. But I'm afraid, yes, red
wine occasionally.
10. Are
you gay?
I feel that I am quite vulnerable and that's quite good enough because
I wouldn't want to be thought of as Tarzan or Jane or whatever! I'd
rather be thought of as someone quite sensitive who could understand
women in a way that wasn't really sexual. I hate men who can only see
women in a sexual way - to me that's criminal and I want to change that.
I don't recognise such terms as heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual and
I think it's important that there's someone in pop music who's like
that. These words do great damage, they confuse people and they make
people feel unhappy so I want to do away with them.
11. Favourite
shop?
Rymans, the stationers. To me it's like a sweetshop. I go in there
for hours, smelling the envelopes. As I grew up I used to love stationery
and pens and booklets and binders. I can get incredibly erotic about
blotting paper. So for me, going into Rymans is the most extreme sexual
experience one could ever have.
12. Favourite
joke?
The funniest thing - I mean I'll say this now but it won't seem the
least bit funny, it'll seem completely damp - was when this famous social
gadfly came up to Oscar Wilde at this celebrated event in Paris and
said, "Isn't it true, Oscar, that I'm the ugliest woman in the whole
of Paris?" and he said "No, my dear, you're the ugliest woman in the
whole of the world" which I thought was quite funny.
13. Who
does your laundry?
Me, I'm afraid. Every Friday night you'll find me leaning over the
bathtub, immersed in Persil. I simply cannot go to the launderette and
I don't have a washing machine and I don't have time to get one. It's
quite passionately romantic leaning over the bath, scrubbing one's shirts.
14. Are
you in love?
If I said no, that would seem too stark. I have to be. I think everybody
has to be otherwise where do you get the energy from to go on, in life,
and strive for certain things? The things that stir me are schools and
buildings and I'm quite immersed in the past and in the history of this
country and how things have evolved and I get quite passionate about
certain people in desperate situations.
15. Are
you frightened of growing old?
No, not to any degree. I was never happy when I was young so I don't
equate growing old with being hysterically unhappy. To me old age doesn't
mean doom, despair and defeat. There are lots of people I know in considerably
advanced years that I find fascinating.
16. Do
you socialise with the rest of The Smiths?
Well, I see them every single day, but we don't go out to clubs,
so no, we don't socialise in that way. We haven't fallen into that throng
of people who need to be seen - we're quite private in that respect.
17. Are
you a socialist?
I am. I don't belong to any particular party but I were to be stripped
down, as it were, I would be shoved in the socialist box. Why? Just
the very obvious things of coming from a working-class background, being
exposed to hardships and the reality of life. I think all socialists
are absolute realists.
18. Do
you believe in an after-life?
Not really. I can't think of any reason why I should. You're born,
you live, you die and that's the end.
19. If
you were an animal what would you be?
I'd probably be a cat, I think. Mainly because I'm very fond of them
and they can lead a relatively luxurious life. They're also very independent
beings - not like dogs who need persistent attention. I'd like to be
an ordinary scrubber, an alley cat... no, a tabby.
20. The
best thing about being a pop star?
The best thing is, one way or another, that people respect you. It
just boils down to fame. No matter what you've done in the past - people
will forgive you. People in the past who've spat at you are quite forgiving.
It's two-faced, of course, but it gives me a great deal of satisfaction
because it's an enormous sense of achievement. It can't be surpassed,
really.