Burnel is a British performance artist who dresses in outrageous anarchic style to be Transformer. He towers above everyone in night clubs, on political marches and at alternative events on his monstrous 18 inch platform shoes. His outfits are tales in themselves, often containing cupboards, sound systems, mechanical devices and full of surprises, each one makes a statement. His face is beautifully made up in a cross between a female clown and a punk. The smile is big and the voice is loud and he engages with people to ridicule their most private selves, like going through women's handbags and playing with men's faces.

Neither woman nor man, the androgyny is bewildering, but when Burnel lifts the skirting to expose a painted gas mask penis, you know you are faced with a gender as yet undefined by humans.

Tuppy Owens spoke to the real, quietly spoken, self-effacing Burnel about his alternative persona.

T: How did it all start?

B: The dressing up box under the stairs. I'd dress up as granny and freak Mum's B&B guests out. The competition was pretty stiff from an early age. Mum used to terrify me with her outfits for fancy dress balls. My favourite was when she stood for the local conservative party election in a black plastic dannimac and matching bonnet.

T: So you take after her?

B: You could say so. Well, she didn't discourage me.

T: Did you have childhood ambitions to change the world?

B: I didn't realise the world needed changing when I was younger. It seemed perfectly normal to be playing cross dressing weddings with my sister in the back yard.

T: You come from the seaside town called Hunstanton. Was this your inspiration?

B: All kiss-me-quick hats and ice-cream cones whipped to perfection. Acres of red flesh and donkeys crapping in the sand. At one point, it had about fifteen bingo halls. Even the pier gave up under the strain and blew away in the late 70's. Its really a day tripper's paradise. I don't think it ever offered much in the way of entertainment to its teenagers. Even the nearest cinema is sixteen miles away and then it was a take it or leave it choice. The sad thing is if I'd never left to go off to Birmingham University, I'd probably never have known what I was missing.

T: What were you teenage years like?

B: Spent prancing round the living room to the Blue Danube by Strauss, but by the early 70's, I discovered ABBA and T.Rex, shortly followed by the whole punk rock thing. The end of the 70's saw my first perm, the height of fashion! At the same time, I was making yellow fun-fur chicken tops and spraying my perked up curls pink, to see the school bands forgetting the words to old punk classics in local village halls.

T: What about University?

B: This was the time of my highest hair do's and tightest plastic trousers. I used to mince through the streets of Birmingham in size 8 open-toed stilettos I'd found for £1 on the rag market (I'm a size 12 really). I suppose my whole wardrobe was highly undesirable. Music fashions seemed to come thick and fast. I didn't quite know who or where I was, though by the mid 80's I was Jim Morrison. A year later, I was upstaging my sister at her wedding with bright orange quiff, patent leather boots, purple pinstripe suit and beaver skin hat with feathers.

T: Presumably you were supposed to be studying something?

B: Yes: it was chemical engineering at Aston but, surrounded by bands, arts centres and night clubs, it didn't take long to decide that, once I had my degree, things were going to change.

T: What did you do to make the change?

B: I told my professor that I'd like to go into the theatre, and he suggested I spell in the army, to sort myself out! What a twerp! Anyway, I did a year of stage management "training" in Cardiff, where the design lecturer wished that we would never found success, because we dared to criticise the course! Don't know what she'd think if she knew what good use I'd put that training to!

T: Did you work in the straight theatre?

B: Yes as stage manager. When I moved to London, I started dressing up seriously at clubs. As the dressing up became more far fetched and impractical, so my day-to-day wardrobe became less spectacular.

T: There's a shocking contrast between the quiet, thoughtful, Burnel and loud mocking Transformer.

B: The more people see the difference, the more I make that divide. I like surprising people.

T: You succeed. Nobody can believe it's the same person. I noticed that when you were being employed as Transformer at the Erotica '93 festival in Bologna, that you didn't feel comfortable relaxing with the rest of us at the end of the day over dinner, while still dressed up. Why's that?

B: Mainly because it's so difficult to sit down in costume and of course, I'm not relaxed when I'm being Transformer. Unfortunately, Transformer hasn't many social graces so is rarely invited to dinner anyway. I take up too much room at the table and my makeup gets smudged while eating.

T: How do the two sides match up -- Burnel and Transformer?

B: The real me likes scandal and gossip about the vicar and the neighbours but has a prim and proper(ish) exterior. Transformer sets out to create a scandal and gossip but hopefully no-one would ever connect the two of us.

T: Tell me about your latest show.

B: It's called Piss Cabaret, starring Virginia Waters and April Showers, my two suicide angels. One of these angels glamorously urinates as I sing, dressed in cling film and inflated freezer bags ( see the bondage element here). The audience are asked to wear bin liners with eye holes poked in them for protection. In reality, that's because I don't want anyone upstaging me in a glittery frock!

T: But why the pissing?

B: Because society says if it's sexual practice and it ain't fucking, then it's not normal. I do a strip routine after that, to The Sweet's "Blockbuster", using scissors, pink icing sugar and car spray paint. This is followed by the fabulous operatic bottom which lip synches and eats chocolates -- all highly theatrical / kitsch and presented in a perfectly acceptable way. But if you heard about anything like this happening, most people would go tut tut.

T: Is your vulgarity significant to our times?

B: What's vulgar about what I do? I think it's tasteful.

T: But what gender is Transformer? You are personally very masculine, and tall, and laid back. Transformer is flirtatious and cutsie and bold, but has a masculine streak, being loud and vulgar and overpowering. Kind of like a grand lady. During the strip routine, which is my favourite act, you metamorphose frantically.

B: It's hard to strip without ending up naked. It's confusing for me. I don't know how to carry it off. I don't like to wear makeup without the costume. In the animal amnesty strip I don't end up nude and it's much better. It looks frantic because ripping the cling films and freezer requires strength and it's actually a bit dangerous. I've stabbed myself a few times doing it!

T: Do you regard the Transformer look as androgynous?

B: It seems to get a more female tag, mainly because it's accepted for women to wear skirts and makeup. But, in my view, we've all got tits of a varying size, and should be able to wear anything. So yes, androgynous.

T: Your outfits seem to be made very cheaply, often out of household materials like feather dusters.

B: Yes. I think people who wear expensive clothes are stupid. Dressing should be self-expression, not a statement of financial status. I hate people who use clothes to prove they have a lot of money, being into this designer or that designer. You can buy things cheaply and put things together to create a more personal affect.

T: But some people don't have your talent. What's more, a well cut suit feels great! It makes you feel confident and efficient. A lot of people wear designer clothes to help them feel secure. Sometimes it's useful to identify with people who have the same values as yourself, by wearing a certain label. Like Boy.

B: Maybe. There are all sorts of things like that, but it's the people who buy clothes because they are expensive who I want to ridicule. ID used to show what inspired people had knocked up but now it's just designer clothing. Things are getting worse by the minute. I'm against suits because people wear them because they are expected to. People shouldn't have to dress to please others, or to be conventional. It's horrible when people are forced to wear certain clothing.

T: This seems to be a big issue with you. You hate elitism?

B: It's like when I went to Berlin. The people who ran the clubs were snotty and treated me shabbily when they saw me out of costume. They had attitude and were dressed up in the latest Vivienne Westwood stuff. I dislike that whole thing. It's OK to be playing around with people's attitude but when you become a victim of it, it makes you even more angry. They looked down their noses at you as if to say "you're not part of the fun crowd now" when I was out of costume. Dressing up shouldn't be compulsory or competitive, but just fun, not to prove you are better than others. Clubbers should be encouraged to dress up, not compelled to.

T: But you've entered contests like at Kinky and the Alternative Miss World

B: Obviously people like something new, people don't want to see just another costume, so it's exciting to make something new. But everybody's got something, and I don't strive to be "best".

T: What is fun about dressing up?

B: For me, it's a chance to get away with things I couldn't get away with otherwise. In Berlin, there's a bar where you can get free food if you're dressed up enough! It's incredible.

T: You certainly seem to be giving people a lot of pleasure. Most of the public love you.

B: Thanks, but many are offended, or dismissive. It's good to get a reaction, whether it's positive or negative.

T: Do you enjoy creating the costumes and making them?

B: I did when I was working in a studio and had plenty of space. But now I do it all from my bedsit and am surrounded by them all the time, with little space to make new ones and it's becoming a nightmare! Now I'd rather spend time in bed thinking about it than getting up and doing it!

T: Is there a sexual edge to it?

B: Sometimes, there are pervy bits and pieces in the costumes.

T: I mean, do you get off on it?

B: You mean, do I get a hard on? No! I'm used to wearing tights, and there's no thrill. I'd rather have nice new fresh Marks and Spencer underwear to get turned on in.

T: Your sex life really doesn't include dressing up?

B: Quite the opposite.

T: Are you shy in bed?

B: I'm too busy sleeping to know! (and besides which, isn't bed a rather conventional place for what you're referring to?)

T: Sorry, I was trying to be discreet. Do your boyfriends know about Transformer, or is it secret?

B: Not secret, but separate. It's difficult to keep something like that secret when the clothes are all over your floor and there's glitter in the bed.

T: Have boyfriends come to your shows?

B: I couldn't really cope with that. I want to be me when I'm with someone I fancy. On top of which, I've not found it an easy mix. One boyfriend came down to a club called Smashing where we were all rolling on the floor -- me as the outrageous Transformer, and he got jealous. He didn't realise that I was just fulfilling a role, it wasn't me. That part of me is a fairy story. It's me sending up everything. It's good that people who aren't in the know find it believable but I would hope that people who know me better realise that it's just a big send-up.

T: How do you relate to the tranny scene?

B: I think I'm different to most of them. I've never thought of myself as a transvestite, I often wonder if the transvestites who do it less for show think I'm sending them up, although I'm not. It's more about laughing at people's inhibitions, prejudices etc. I steer clear of serious transvestite conventions. I'm just an old glamour freak, out for as much attention as possible!

T: You mean, you're not making a statement?

B: If I am, it's about freedom, intolerance, how we see ourselves and how dress codes seem to distinguish our sexuality (history seems to be ignored!) and challenging ideas of normality.

T: Tell me about how your outfits do this.

B: Some enable their own performances. For example, the costume with loud speakers in the chest mean I can play the music and sing opera as I go. There's the "Cruella de Vil" strip routine costume made for the animal rights group called animal amnesty in Milan, who do fund-raising anti-fur shows. I peel away the royal exterior -- all purple velvet, glitter, fake ermine, to reveal velvet breasts with gold tassels. These are tossed aside leaving a rib cage, heart, kidneys, guts, etc. which all end up on a pile on the floor.

T: That sounds excellent. I can see these were made for a purpose but what about the others?

B: Others are more surreal. The Greek Column and the Clock Frock speak for themselves. One of my favourites was the Christmas Box which was a blue and gold wooden box which I pinned myself inside, with my head and arms coming through the holes. At the front, cupboard doors opened up on an Oh! so lovely nativity scene. The drawers above contained fake snow which I sprinkle over everyone. A trap door opened in the bottom and the baby Jesus dropped out with a noose around its neck. Meanwhile, the plastic virgin Mary on my head flashed on and off like a beacon. That's the outfit which, for me, gives the public everything they want, then blows it away with its antireligious sentiment. I remember displaying that one in Hunstanton High Street. Mum cam rushing up and tried to shove the baby back up between my legs because she didn't want people in town to think ill of me!

The Birth of Venus outfit is really an abstraction of Boticelli's painting by the same name. Rather than Venus being born, Venus is giving birth. I've always liked grotesque beauty.

T: You certainly seem to offend moral standards.

B: It's easy to offend moral standards these days -- just by having holes in your jeans, wearing make-up, dying your hair. I remember once when my fringe was long and covered my eyes. An old man in a newsagents in Hunstanton asked me if I didn't think it was time to get a hair cut and whether I could see through that lot. I just said that it was a blessing I couldn't see him but a shame I could still hear him.

T: Do your outfits represent that kind of response?

B: Sort of, but I'm probably more angry with people's screwed up attitudes than I could ever put in my art. People probably overlook any statement and just see it as funny, silly etc.

T: Like many comedians -- you go for the jugular with fools, but you are also lovely with people. You lighten up their lives when you play with them. You flirt magnificently.and seem to play with their sexuality.

B: It's all about roles -- who wears and does what. I try to make kinky sex more acceptable, by sending it up, by presenting it in a comic form.

T: Your performance is totally individual, not falling into any category.

B: No. It's difficult to know how and where to sell and market myself. People see me but don't have the imagination to explore the possibilities. Consequently, I'm often used just to look good rather than to devise performances, etc. It can be more than a little frustrating when I spend all night screaming my head off and improvising with people's drinks, handbags and underwear!

T: But you get paid to appear in clubs now?

B: Only abroad in Italy and Germany, so far! Italy has a good club policy whereby it doesn't present you with an empty room and expect you to get on with it. They pay you to entertain. One club uses me as a beautifully decorated pedestal which represents their theme of the night.

T: Do you feel as if you fit into Italian culture more?

B: No

T: I mean, don't you feel as if you're part of a larger alternative culture?

B: Not anymore. I feel I was a punk rocker who went one step further. The rest probably became respectable business people.

T: You don't relate to what anyone else is doing, people like Leigh Bowery?

B: I try not to "relate" because what I do is more influenced by the general state of the world than by other performers. I don't set out to imitate -- often what's gone before can be a big creative block.

T: Tell me about the Alternative Miss World

B: It's a twenty-contestant freak show -- the Alternative Miss can be any sex, age, animal, vegetable or mineral. It's presided over by the host/hostess Andrew Logan who traditionally wears half man/half woman outfits and makeup on the right and left side of his body. He's a jewellery artist and sculptor, and everything is always done with immense style. The biggest show was in a huge marquee on Clapham Common and a full length feature film was made about it. Since I won the title in 1991, there hasn't been another contest. Andrew is seeking finance.

T: Do you think Kinky Gerlinky kind of took over?

B: Perhaps, because that was more audience participation, but it would be a shame to see the Alternative Miss World tradition die.

T: How do you describe Kinky nights?

B: They were like the Suzanne Bartch's Love Balls. They started small, but eventually attracted almost a thousand people every month in a huge club in Leicester Square. The name was the inspiration to dress however you want. As with the Alternative Miss World, anything went, provided it defies "the norm" -- and gravity! They are run by a wonderful woman called Gerlinda Von Regensburg and her partner, Michael Kostiff. Since it's kind of ended, others have sprung up in competition, but I don't think anywhere else has been as successful, or as dressed up or showy.

T: What's next?

B: I'll be doing more world-touring surrealism I'd like to get to America, but I can't afford to go on spec and haven't been invited yet.

T: Do you think you're a fashion trend-setter?

B: I think the things I make are a little far gone to be considered fashionable. I'm sure there are a fair few ideas that could be watered down and might appear on the catwalk in years to come. It would be satisfying of people did get inspired from be though a bollocks if they steal and win praise and cash.

T: What would your style be called?

B: It's just dressing up Every now and then, someone gives it a different label: drag, glam, punk, new romantic, goth. To me, the distinction becomes a little blurred. My skirts don't go up and down with the seasons, more on a daily basis.

T: Do you think your performances influence the way other people see things?

B: The performances are a result of how the world around me effects me, but people might not pick up on that. Isn't it enough that art is made out what you feel, and if people want to take anything out of it, they can? But if they want to simply see you as something pretty or horrible, they can do that too.

T: Piss Cabaret seems like a rebellious response to current censorship and repressions, reminiscent of Genesis P Orridge and Cosey Fanni Tutti's ICA piss show of the 70's.

B: I've never heard of them. There is a rebellious aspect, but I think it's a lot to do with the papers I read, actually. The hypocritical British tabloids such as the News of the World get me on my high horse. Being critical of the 'vicar screwing the woman next door' is ridiculous, especially with all the moralistic shite they put in. I don't see what the problem is with people doing what they want. So, without these papers, there would be no Piss Cabaret.

T: But why do you read these papers if they upset you so much? Why support them by buying them in the first place?

B: It keeps me in touch with reality. If people actually believe in what these papers say, it's pretty appalling. Do you think readers really believe it?

T: Yes, they probably do and it livens up their dreary lives. They like putting other people down for enjoying themselves because they daren't do it themselves. It upsets me to read papers about people having their lives ruined by being "exposed".

B: They upset me too and I get pissed off, but if you can read them and rise above it, that's fine

T: Is being Transformer the way you express yourself politically?

B: It's the way I have most fun doing it.

T: What are your politics?

B: (Silence)

T: Anarchy?

B: Not being controlled would be great, if everyone was responsible, but the trouble is they're not. I'm responsible, although I could be more so. I mean, I could take the pile of newspapers that's being building up over the past few years down to the recycling bin, but last time I did it the police stopped me to find out what was inside my bin bag. So I'm a bit disillusioned! So -- not anarchy.

T: What then?

B: I don't know. The laws always seem to go against what's obviously right. Like the age of consent for gays! It's ridiculous that it should be different to straight people. I don't understand their mentality or what their problem is. Laws are based on people's prejudices from years and years ago. How the hell can you obey laws that are based on people's prejudices?