Clive Parker has always been a punk and he’s proud of it. His career has seen him share stages with the likes of The Clash, Human League and Nik Kershaw. He was also a founding member of Scottish folk-rock band Big Country.

Now the Battle resident is bringing his debut theatre show, Sex, Drugs And Music Hall to Brighton. While writing and performing in your own production might be considered a million miles from the classic punk imagery of Johnny Rotten screaming into a microphone, Parker insists it’s an art ripped from the same cloth.

“For me, the show is sort of like a Ramones gig. No one knows what’s going to happen, it’s just me hamming it up with Marshall [Star, Parker’s accomplice].

“I would say it’s definitely an extension of my punk ethos.”

The show is adapted from Parker’s book, The Box, a racy, glamourised telling of the story of Thomas Brem-Wilson, a real-life Ghanaian Victorian Pentecostal preacher who moved to London in 1901. Brem-Wilson is an intriguing character, a founder of the UK’s first African Pentecostal Church and something of a dandy. Brem-Wilson married Jewish music hall star Ettie Cinders and Parker describes the book as an often-literal trawl through three generations of the family’s “dirty laundry” that resulted from the union.

The Brem-Wilsons became entwined with the music and bingo hall scene in the Victorian era and travailed through its ups and downs.

“It’s a unique story. I think the audience empathise with the characters. Especially Nina [Brem-Wilson’s great-granddaughter] – she worked in the bingo halls, with great success, then had a terrible fall after becoming embroiled with south London gangs like the Richardsons.

“She then goes out to Africa to find her great-grandfather’s land, and the book tells her struggles in the man’s world that she finds.”

Sex, Drugs And Music Hall is a two-man production, toned down for wider audiences from The Box. He describes the format developing from his narrative readings at the book launch, growing organically into the present format. It’s a show not exclusive to one aspect of theatre; Parker attributes it to the genre of “techno musical”.

“It’s a fast-paced, quick-fire thing where we’re transferring from music, to narration and acting.

“I really don’t think it has been done before.”

Co-performer Marshall Star is a trained actor, while Parker is a newcomer to the field. Parker channels his theatrical performance from his considerable onstage experience of playing in a range of cult bands.

So far it has been put on in a series of unusual venues with the productions in the city continuing that. Performances are being staged at Hove Library this month, then at Brighton’s Jubilee Library in July. Both are free.

“Doing something like this, more people can see and enjoy it and get this brand new arts experience.”

Parker says the show has been well-received and gained interest from the Albany Theatre in Deptford, with the possibility of putting on a bigger production.

Parker must be hoping the initial success continues and avoids the ill fate of his time in Big Country. After initial success as a founder of the Scottish band, things turned sour between Parker and Big Country’s management. He and the Wishart brothers, Pete and Alan, were asked to leave after a disastrous start to their tour supporting Alice Cooper in 1982, which included a show at the Brighton Centre.

“There wasn’t the cross-pollination there is now between fans of different genres, and the metal kids didn’t like our style of music.

“We were bottled off the stage a couple of times and Alice Cooper’s management weren’t happy with the situation.”

It’s not the only time Parker has faced hairy moments. During the 1980s, with punk band Spizzenergi/Athletico Spizz 80 (the band has gone through multiple name changes), he played gigs in Eastern Europe, including a few in Berlin.

“We’d travel through the whole Eastern Bloc, go through Checkpoint Charlie, play at venues run by the Communists and gangsters, experience things that would make people’s eyes water. We saw people handing over money in venues with guns on the table.”

Unabashed and bold, Parker describes Brem-Wilson as an innovator and sees himself in the same vein.

“There’s a bit of me in Thomas Brem-Wilson’s figure from the story. It’s something I think authors have [with their main characters]. There are a vast amount of experiences in life that have probably been had by me more than most. I’ve seen some things that normal people never see, so there’s a biographical element in there. You’re always relating your own experiences to your own work.”

That’s quite the preamble but Parker is quite the character. Whatever Sex, Drugs And Music Hall may be, dull is doubtful.