Throughout my childhood, I was in various boys’ institutions, because I kept getting nicked. I was brought up in a Catholic orphanage for three years, because my family didn’t pay the rent and we were made homeless when I was five. I was pretty fucked up when I came out. I ended up not knowing what morality was. I didn’t realise that nicking from shops was wrong.
I was shoplifting and housebreaking, and got nicked, because I wasn’t very good at it. But it was never for worldly gain, just for fun. I was bored and didn’t like my parents or my brothers – the only people I liked were arseholes like me. I was a very awkward, aggressive, troubled boy and I got into trouble just being with people who would accept me.
At one institution, when I was 15 or 16, I started to paint and draw to keep out of trouble. When I left at 18, I got a place at ChelseaSchool of Art. I started to do prints, which I was selling for £1. I had no overheads, because it was all paid for by the school. So I kept myself in money, rather than going out robbing gas meters, which was my favourite means of income, and I realised I was an artist. Every painter is like an entrepreneur, because they’re coming up with something people want, so you’re always making product. But I was living an illegal life as well, on the run from the police, sleeping rough and getting into trouble.
Eventually, I got myself straightened out. I decided I would become a printer, and I taught myself how to print by getting a job and being sacked after two days, but learning a little and then going onto another. After my 11th job I was home and dry. I perfected my skills and set up my own printworks. I got myself a garage and put two printing machines in there. Soon I was working 100 hours a week because I was so committed, my prices were good and I absolutely loved being an entrepreneur. I’ve never been able to work for anyone, and if I ever go to your office and ask for a job, shut the door on me because I’m a fucking useless employee. But I was really fascinated by building my own business.
If it doesn’t kill you…
Even as a nipper, and then as a teenager and a young man selling drawings, I was being entrepreneurial. And those times made me. As Nietzsche says, if it doesn’t kill you, it makes you strong, and the interesting thing about entrepreneurs is they often cash in on reversals of fortune. So when Gordon Roddick said he wanted me to start a street paper, it wasn’t a frightening thing, because I knew all there was to know about printing magazines, and on top of that I knew about homelessness. I was the best person for the job, and I had enormous energy.
At 45, when a lot of people are slowing down, Gordon Roddick let me out of the bottle. I’m probably one of the most unreliable people you could ever imagine. But crime is often entrepreneurial. It’s opportunistic – people saying there’s a gap in the market, which is not being filled by official business. I grew up with a guy who had about 500 deals in his head – he couldn’t write anything down because the Old Bill were breathing down his neck. In the end he got 30 years, but in a different life he’d have been Richard Branson.
