He paints, he writes, he has recorded over 100 full-length records with his various bands, and his bushy mustache is damn handsome.

In 1977 he sang and played guitar for the Pop Rivets. Since then he has lead Thee Milkshakes, Thee Mighty Caesars, the Delmonas, Thee Headcoats and the Buff Medways. He has also released solo recordings of just him and a guitar recorded raw from his kitchen to effectively generate an old blues sound.

Childish lives a very modest life in the town of Kent with his wife Julie. He’s been a major influence on acts like the White Stripes, the Makers, Nirvana and Guitar Wolf. Even Kylie Minogue paid tribute to him with her release titled “Impossible Princess” related to one of Childish’s books of poems.

He has painted over 2,500 works and is a published novelist and poet. Billy Childish is creativity personified.

He’s dyslexic and his novels can be difficult to get through because he won’t accept changes to his original misspellings of words. He had sex with a dog when he was 14 and was abused physically and sexually as a child.

Childish’s wife, Julie, gave me his home phone number so I could call him to do the interview. I have Thee Billy Childish’s phone number. I put him on my cell phone as a contact. Not that I’ll ever be able to really use it or call all the time to chat him up about what he’s having for dinner or if he cut himself shaving earlier that morning. But, in the slim chance someone sees it as I scroll through my contacts that Thee Billy Childish is on my list of cell phone contacts, you know, Billy and me, Billy-Boy, as I affectionately call him when he calls me T-Dawg, ’cause you know, we just have it like that.

Okay, I’ll end my star-fucking fantasy right here.

Childish is shy, but he was gracious to give me two hours of his time on the telephone.

He put out a record on Sympathy for the Record Industry called Crimes Against Music. It was a stripped down release, just him and his guitar, covering some of his earlier work as well as other legends like Son House. The liner notes discuss how Childish considers himself forever the amateur, and they were so inspiring I typed them out when I bought the album and hung them on the wall in my office.

“People aren’t what they do; they just get up to a few games. Children have a better idea. They come out of school and they know when they’re pretending. They know when they’re pretending to fly to Mars,” Childish says, “And it’s best to realize that you can pretend to be a musician or pretend to be a writer or pretend to be an artist, and if you do it with a bit of heart and soul, that’s when you play your best games.

“But I’ve got no time for professional writers or musicians or artists because it’s really no life. It’s the same for professional football players. It’s a game for crissakes and that goes for the artist and musicians as well.”

I tell him about how much his liner notes on Crimes Against Music meant to me and asked him to talk a bit more about them.

“Amateur means you’re doing it because that’s what you love, whereas the professional may well be doing it just to pay his mortgage. Amateur doesn’t mean that the results aren’t as good, the amateur should be able to make it better than the professional because it’s a much lighter touch. You know, the professional could be very heavy-handed. Of course you can get professionals around, but generally speaking there are ulterior motives for a professional. For us, the amateurs, it’s nice and clean and clear.

“I mean let’s face it, grown people shouldn’t be making millions of pounds playing football or painting pictures. It’s an insult to anyone’s intelligence.

“And amateur is based on the French word “to love”… yeah; it’s something to do with that. Love. To love what you do. You do it because you love it. It’s not really insulting.

“But it’s good that it’s got an insulting twang to it, because it’s always good to be on the wrong end of the seesaw.”

On the phone I hear dishes clang in the background and people talking.

As far as finding time to be a musician, while also writing and painting, Childish explains, “Well… as far as it goes I play with the band once or twice a month. And we don’t rehearse, so that really doesn’t get in the way. We haven’t rehearsed for the last 15 years or so. In the different groups we get together for doing a record or, you know, we often try out a few things before a show if we got to work out how something goes.

“Occasionally I’ll write an album’s worth of stuff, and that happens just sitting in the kitchen now and then.”

With his heavy output of production and releases I wonder if he ever has insecurities or regrets about earlier work and how he gets past it.

“Let me ask my wife: do I have insecurities regarding my art and creation?”

The dishes stop clanging and I hear muffled voices.

“Yes, she says I do a bit. Only a little bit. Because I don’t know if I got those insecurities. My wife says I got them a little bit.”

Childish is currently sober, but he used to be quite a heavy drinker. He stopped drinking around 1992/93. I ask him why he stopped. He talks at length after I ask and I sit back and listen, trying to keep from pissing my pants that I’m hearing this very honest answer from any sober stranger, let alone Billy Childish.

“I gave up my romantic dance with death.

“It’s not a bad time to grow up. Thirty-four I thought wasn’t a bad time to stop being a teenager. I think it’s quite an important time, your 30s. If you can change things in your 30s, the next chance you get to changing things is when you get around 40. I think there’s less chance of changing things when you’re around 40.

“You know because there’s not much grace in 40-year-old teenagers. By 30 it gets a bit tiring. Being a teenager is a tough time, and I think it’s good to get over it by the time you’re 30.