Brian Beacom

IT’S 16 years since Hurricane Darius arrived in our world, crashing through the national consciousness in Pop Idol.

The young man from Bearsden was defined by a confidence than seemed to know no boundaries.

But where is his 36 year-old head today? Is he still six feet four inches of giant ego? Does the awesome self-confidence allow for even a sliver of introspection?

And in the past, the former Edinburgh University English Lit/Philosophy student has suggested he has a First Class Honours in not answering trickies.

For some reason we launch right into politics and the miseries of the modern world.

What emerges is a thoughtful concerned 36 year-old who hits out at the taxation strategies of Google and Starbucks and who argues intensely for the right to better education, new industry, and healthcare.

“Politicians are as confused and frightened as the majority of people,” he offers. “But I think Scots, who lead the Enlightenment, have more clarity than most. We can come through this.”

So who will you vote for, Darius? “My work or my position in the public arena could distract from solving the problem. For that reason I choose to focus on the solutions.”

Jeez, we’re just five minutes in and you’re giving me a political answer?

“Personally, I try to use my position, the spheres I move in, to push to ask questions, whether it’s heads of UNICEF, or anchors of Fox News or CNN correspondents. But I won’t align myself to a party because too many celebrities do that in order to maintain their celebrity.”

He’s certainly passionate about change for the better, an egalitarian. It’s in the DNA, he says and relates a imprint in his life. His father, Booth Danesh, developed the first heart-lung machine for premature babies.

“My dad wasn’t celebrated for this, even though he could have patented the idea and made fortunes. Why? Being from Iran he faced terrible political and racial prejudice, which also relegated me as a young schoolboy in Bearsden to being called racist names. But the point is my dad was an altruistic humanitarian who wanted to make people’s lives better.”

Darius Danesh (now Campbell) could have saved lives if he’d gone along with his parents’ dream and become a doctor himself.

But he’d been bitten by the performance bug, indeed, feted by Scottish Opera. “After watching my dad operate at Stobhill Hospital I knew medicine wasn’t for me.”

Months of arguing and door-slamming days followed until it was agreed he should study at Edinburgh University, close enough to keep an eye on his two young brothers, and a university with its own theatre.

Then in 1992 Pop Idol appeared. “At the beginning of my career I was a young foolish, overly enthusiastic, tenacious but naïve performer. Now, I admit I am the most flawed person I know. I put my hands up.”

His showbiz career, he says, is now almost a hobby which funds his other plans, his extensive charity work, his mission to bring nanotech firms to Scotland to create product that will benefit society. (“I can’t talk detail right now.”)

“Now, I cannot pass someone in the street if they look troubled. I learned first aid when I was young, just in case.”

On a flight to Denmark 18 months ago, Darius attempted CPR on a Greenock man whom he watched die – and then come back to life. He still keeps in touch with John Barclay and his family. “I realised this is what my parents did every day.”

He stresses the need to understand the needs of others. “I’m prepared to be open in life.”

How open? He talks about why he chooses theatre roles; they need to have emotional resonance, stories audiences can empathise with. He explains why Funny Girl’s Fanny Bryce story is the story of a breakdown, the tale of an outsider made to feel different.

“I’ve just gone through a divorce,” he says of his marriage to actress Natash Henstridge, and adds in soft voice the key song title, “People need people.”

It’s also his mantra. How does he push aside the pain of break-up and go on stage singing about it?

“You don’t push it aside,” he says. “I once tried to compartmentalise it but it doesn’t work. So you embrace it. I bring it up there. I felt a great sense of loss with the divorce and I went through a grieving period. You see, you don’t break up with one person, you break up with three. (His ex has two sons). And in some ways, it’s like a death.

“But what we have to be is authentic. Authenticity is the answer to everything, to conflict resolution, to being a better performer on stage.

“I’ve learned to be present with the sense of loss. I talk it about it with my family and in that way I don’t need to see a shrink or take drink or drugs. It’s about honesty.”

Was he too young, too foolish to marry? “That’s a great question. At 22 I took on the role of stepfather to a three year-old and a six year-old. And that relationship was certainly not without its ups and downs.

“The sense I’m left with though is how lucky I was to make an impact upon these two young boys’ lives. I got to play with them on the beach, to take them to family holidays, I got to bring them to Edinburgh when I was in Guys and Dolls, to tell in ghost stories on the Royal Mile. It was amazing.

“So I have nothing but gratitude for this relationship. I know nothing in life comes easy but I have a peace within me.”

He adds; “And we’ll be there for one another if the chips are down.”

“The end of a relationship is a loss of self. I think if you want to have a cry, you have a jolly good cry.

“You know, Prince Harry did more for mental health recently in 25 minutes than mental health educators have done in 25 years. It’s all about telling it as it is.”

• Funny Girl, May 30 – June 3.