What Dizzee did next

Dizzee Rascal has sex on the brain. You've only got to listen to his lyrics: he's always on about how, after the show, Shauna was on his banana, and then there was Denise, Patrice, Shanice, Cherice Not to mention Kelisha, Tylisha and Felicia. Nearly every track on his world-storming album

'Oh, you noticed, did you?' he huffs. 'That's good.' The full English breakfast that sits in front of him, untouched, cools a little more. He says he didn't order it; perhaps it was one of his over-attentive crew - two friends from Bow and three PR staff. (When he later changes for our photo shoot, there is a scramble of people trying to hold his jacket for him.) Dizzee is in a bit of a bate with me, though I'm not quite sure why. I haven't been prying but I have asked who writes his Twitter feed for him. He's got 193,000 followers but his tweets are so slickly professional I can't help doubting it's actually him reminding them to buy this or that or to look out for his latest Dirtee Stank record label protégé. 'Yeah, my tweets: I do it every now and then,' he says carefully. 'I'm not the dude on there telling you I had a shit five minutes ago. You've got to be careful, man, you can't just be saying everything that's on your mind, it's not necessary.' Again, I point out he's a private guy. And then from nowhere his temper rises, quick as a rap lyric, a temper that's scary and jokey and quite thrilling to be on the end of: 'Why, who are you f***ing?' Dizzee asks me, trying to turn the tables. 'Erm, I'm f***ing my husband,' I say. 'What about you?' 'I ain't f***ing your husband,' he retorts. One or two of his entourage explode with laughter. This super-sharp rascal always has the last word.

Anyway, despite having just won an Ivors Inspiration Award at the Ivor Novellos last week, I am informed that Dizzee has a burgeoning new hobby: photography. His shots are being displayed exclusively on the homepage of the Microsoft search engine Bing - where they will be seen, as a man from Microsoft perkily tells me, by 16 million users. 'I've travelled around a lot since my first album and I've seen so many mad, different, interesting things, and I always took pictures along the way,' Dizzee says. Does he own a lot of cameras? 'I've got quite a few. You buy a nice camera, and then you use it a few times, lose the charger, buy another camera' He gives a millionaire's pout. 'And then another one comes out with more pixels and you gotta get that one, rah. Not that I even know what the f*** the pixels is all about.'

Which photographers does he like? 'I like David Bailey. He gave me a nice picture with a message on it.' He adds quickly: 'I didn't know who he was before I met him.' (The ongoing subtext: 'Some people think I've sold out/But I just think I'm free/There's nothing pretentious about me!') David Bailey can be quite naughty. 'Yeah, we got on,' grins Dizzee.

He's been buying art for his mansion in Bromley. 'Can I get my phone, please?' he says, beckoning over his phone-holder-in-chief to show me snaps of his latest acquisitions: a landscape photograph of a perfect azure-blue desert island, and a David Leroi canvas he bought in Miami, of Spider-Man hanging upside-down.

All Dizzee's album artwork is done with the designer, photographer and graphics guru Ben Drury, who has also worked for the Mo' Wax record label and the band Turin Breaks. 'He's my favourite photographer, I guess, because he's the one I've worked with the most.' Drury created Dizzee's trademark record sleeve poses: devil-horned and cowering for Boy in Da Corner; up close and cross-eyed for 'Bonkers'. 'Ben has modern-day legendary status,' says Dizzee loyally.

Drury has been helping him with the technical aspects of photography, going with him to take scenic shots at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park (Microsoft flew them up there). Drury says that a coachload of schoolkids found out Dizzee was there and 'actually refused to get on the bus until they had at least glanced him. That was enough for them. He talks to everyone the same, totally charming, engaged, sincere. He's a true star and everyone feels like they know him - that's a pretty special position to have.' In terms of photography, Ben rates him as a natural.

'Outside of music, this has probably been one of the most natural, easiest things I've done,' says Dizzee. Watching him at work, Ben Drury observed that his technique 'reflected his lyrical style, as it's observational and quick-fire'. His 'grime' aesthetic seems to translate easily into the visual: just as he makes street slang into rap poetry, and abrasive beats into music, he's got an eye for finding beauty in obscure, urban corners that others would write off as irrelevant filth. Such as the textured, tightly cropped photo of the worn, torn patina left behind by old posters outside the Stratford Rex, the Frank Matcham-designed theatre-turned-cinema-turned-rave-hall - now repossessed by the council for refurbishment. 'He can be dispassionate about the past,' says Drury, 'but the old club obviously brought back memories as he reminisced a bit.'

'Stratford Rex is a place I played when I was younger,' says Dizzee. 'When I was starting out on pirate radio, my name was always on posters here, this was where people would come to see me before I was signed or had a record deal or anything. Sometimes promoters would put my name on even if I wasn't playing, and people would always be moaning at you for not turning up to something you didn't even know was on.' Is he already slightly nostalgic, aged 25, for the days when things were a bit more ramshackle, before he was a megastar? 'Yes and no. There's cons and pros. Sometimes I like thinking about those days when there weren't really no rules and anything could happen, and then the other part of me is like, yeah, I prefer it now it's more professional and I don't need to chase the club promoter down for money, and I don't need to worry if I'm going to leave the club alive.'

This is no empty talk: Dizzee was stabbed six times in Ayia Napa in Cyprus in 2003 (no one was prosecuted, but at the time a So Solid Crew member was questioned by police). One blow narrowly missed his femoral artery; he had internal bleeding and was coughing up blood in hospital. In the past he has said it was a turning point for him: 'It puts you in touch with your life force. It made me respect life a bit more. Gave me a harder work ethic.'

Photographing his favourite barber's shop, on the Hornsey Road, near Arsenal's Emirates Stadium, he focused in on the slashed, tattered leather seat of the barber's chair (above). It's like a portrait of an old friend. 'Well, it's seen a lot of cheek. I like going there. My barber Damon used to come wherever I was and cut my hair, and then it got to the point where I really just liked going there, hearing people talking about the topic of the day, getting their views out. It's another way of keeping your ear to the street. Just gassing, chatting. And the main thing is I get the best haircut, I trust my barber. It feels comfortable sitting there, brings you down to earth a bit.' Even if he turns up in a silver Porsche? 'To be fair the odd nice car does turn up there. He does some footballers, too. And you'd be surprised how many Mercedes there are in poor areas, whether it's legit or not.'

He's keen to do his bit for people in the areas he left behind. He thinks the Microsoft Bing competition could help someone without privilege but lots of talent progress into photography as a career. He will help select a winning photograph to be on Bing's homepage for a day; the prize is £10,000. 'I want to give something back,' he says unself-consciously. 'Hopefully my photos will inspire kids to photograph what they love about Britain. To be fair, a lot of them are going to be better at it [than me], so it's going to be wicked to see what comes back. Someone will win ten grand. I like to do things that are constructive.' That's a generous impulse. 'It feels normal. I've always shared whatever I've got. It's an only child thing - you treat your friends like your brothers. I've got a load of cousins but I don't have brothers and sisters. It makes you closer to friends I guess.' His Nigerian father died when he was two, and he was brought up singlehandedly by his Ghanaian mother Priscilla, who took two jobs to keep them afloat, but when I suggest that being an only child makes you closer to your mum, he gives me a mysterious look and doesn't say a word.

Better to stick to carp fishing, which he finds to be 'one of the most calming things you can do'. He knows it sounds fogeyish - 'I didn't ever imagine myself doing it, but when I did, rah, I loved it.' Friends with the Branson family, he also has a strong entrepreneurial streak: 'I've got my fingers in lots of pies.' He is promoting young talent such as Pepper and D Double E on his Dirtee Stank label; he's also developing a comedy sketch show - all details as yet unconfirmed - and a similarly embryonic film set in London. He was on tour in America and didn't catch the royal wedding on TV. 'I was asleep,' he shrugs. But mention of Pippa Middleton prompts a cheeky smile. 'Oh yeah, I've heard she's nice. I should check her out.'