When he's not mouthing off about today's rubbish pop stars the Manics' Nicky Wire is busy fighting his new enemy: dust. Thank God for Dyson
Bass, how low can you go?
Peter Hook is the genius of the low-slung bass. I grew up with him, Paul Simonon and Sid Vicious as my role models. It was the only way you could look cool playing a bass. You fuck your shoulder up, and you don't play as good, but the pain is worth it. It's all changed today, though. Everyone goes around like fucking George Formby.
Where the hood at?
Blackwood. I have fond memories of it. We'd all walk around dressed like the New York Dolls but luckily I was school football captain so people knew if they beat me up they wouldn't get picked. It was a great place to live. In London we just looked like aliens with stupid accents and people laughed at us.
Can you kick it?
Yes, I can. Or rather yes, I could, because I'm so decrepit now. Jumping around on a stage is much easier than five-a-side football. I was an all-round sports person and I like to think if I'd stuck with cricket I could have been a Welsh Ian Botham.
Where is my mind?
I've just finished reading Jon Savage's book on being a teenager and it made me realise that I'm nowhere near as clever as I think I am. It's just being around musicians a lot that makes me think I'm much cleverer than I am.
Who writes the songs?
Writing words with Richey was a deeply bonding experience, much more than writing music. Richey had a gigantic ego, but all that disappeared when we did lyrics. We knew who did the best things, even if it was just a title.
How clean is your house?
Even with a new baby and a five-year-old, I still can't understand why anyone would want to hire a cleaner. You get a real sense of accomplishment. Dust is the enemy in my house. This morning I was on a chair cleaning the top of the cupboards. I've got four Dysons, one on each floor and two spares.
What are we fighting for?
For the truth. Within the band, it's been a lifelong struggle to find some kind of truth for ourselves and for everyone else. I think that's the ultimate reason of any band. When Philip Hall, our first manager, passed away with cancer, that was almost more traumatic than Richey's disappearance. He'd remortgaged his house to help us start and he never saw us getting big. So it all has to mean something more than just hedonism.
Whose line is it anyway?
I was pissing myself about the cock-up the Arcade Fire made recently with the Orange parade. [They asked the crowd at T In The Park what the march in Glasgow was about, to general jeering.] They're supposed to be the fucking intellectuals of Canada and they don't even know what the parade's about! That's like me going to Montreal and not knowing they speak French.
Do they know it's Christmas?
The remake of that song with Chris Martin was just terrible. On musical terms it was absolutely shockingly shit. But the original has a place in my heart, I remember watching everyone in Wembley going mental. These recent charity gigs have no atmosphere at all. And I'm sick of women pole-dancing on stage. It's an affront to my morals, this endless parade of fucking female sexuality. It's virtually depraved!
Is this it?
In terms of the Manics, it's been the best year we've had in 10 years. It makes us believe we can still connect with people.