DENIS Lawson has never given the impression he could be a very good dog.

The actor is cooler than January, as evidenced by the sophisticated, well-dressed roles in the likes of New Tricks, cult film Local Hero, and Holby City.

Today however perceptions go right out of the window of the Glasgow club in which where we’re having tea.

Denis, now 67 and looking a decade younger, reveals he once painted his toe and fingernails black, wore a dog collar and slept in a basket.

“I reckoned I’d be an alsatian,” he says, grinning. “I grew my hair long, grew a beard, and I even wandered around Regent’s Park looking at dogs, noting how they moved.”

The canine copying came about when he played a dog in a London theatre play, Happy Christmas Miss Figus.

“I took my part very seriously,” he says. Not half, Denis. But you’d hope probity, if not physical limitation, prevented a complete impersonation of doggy behaviour?

“Nothing was licked but I practised humping someone’s leg,” he says, laughing.

“I really wanted to convince as a dog. But the critics didn’t think I managed it. When the reviews came out one said; ‘And then there’s the demented son of the house (Lawson) who thinks he’s a dog.’ I was so upset they didn’t get that I was a dog.”

What the mutt tale reveals is that Denis was not only prepared to send himself up, his dedication made Method actors seem like kids’ playing house.

Yet, it’s rather at odds with the TV and film image; However, Denis reveals his acting dream was not to play interesting introverts. He wanted to be Jerry Lewis.

“I’d known since the age of five or six I wanted to become a performer, which came from going to the Crieff Cinema where you could see four films a week.

“I loved to watch Gene Kelly, Donald O’Connor, Danny Kaye and Jerry Lewis. I wanted to be a song and dance man, and be funny.”

But you’d imagine the Perthshire countryside didn’t resound with young Noel Cowards?

“No, but I always saw acting as a possibility. My mother did dance classes for years, and she taught my sister and me little routines at home.

“And I was also encouraged at primary school. The headmaster wore a morning suit and a starched collar and he caned us for every possible crime.

“Yet, he also taught us to sing. It was such a strict world, yet performance-encouraging in another sense.”

Aged 17, the young, very naive Lawson turned up for drama college audition in Glasgow wearing a suit and tie (a time of merino roll neck sweaters and slacks) and performed a ‘ludicrous’ speech.

“He also managed to get rejected by RADA in London. Undaunted, he took off to Dundee to join a dramatic society and sold carpets during the day to cover his living costs.

The Dundee adventure worked; he was accepted by Glasgow’s RSAMD the following year. “Because I’d learned how to sell carpets, I knew how to sell myself.”

But could he become a song and dance man? Denis Lawson doesn’t at all seem the gregarious type.

He was certainly tested early on when he joined the cast of the musical Hair in Amsterdam .

“There were no rehearsals,” he recalls, “because the show had been running a year when I joined. I just used to follow a little red-headed dancer around on stage and if it got too difficult, then I’d run off stage.”

There’s more of a hint of the more introspective character when the actor reveals auditions were a nightmare.

“I’m c*** at auditions,” he admits, looking right at me. “I don’t know how I’ve built a career. The worst auditions were musicals for Americans in London. They were a cattle market. You had a number in your hand and were called onto the stage. (American accent) ‘Okay, what are you gonna do?’ And you sing, and all you hear is ‘Thank you.’ And you slink off.”

But dogged determination and hard work paid off. His canine stage caper lead to him landing the lead in Pal Joey, where he revealed his song and dance man credentials, which lead to Local Hero, and countless TV dramas where he was cast as the Cool Introvert.

He went on to win an Olivier in 1983 for his role in Mr Cinders in the West End.

Yet, while he’ll talk about theatre roles for ever, he often throws a cold eye at journalists who reference his Star Wars adventure in 1976.

“I just sat in a chair,” he says with a wry grin of his job as the space pilot Wedge Antilles.

His actress wife, Shiela Gish, died ten years ago. “I’m single, but I go out a lot. I’ve got great friends.”

We talk about his famous nephew only in passing, no doubt because he’d rather dress up as a Wookee than be continually reduced to playing Ewan McGregor’s Uncle.

But he’s a fascinating man, perhaps not a naturally big performer yet he can play it wonderfully well.

And you have to admire anyone who’s not only been an acting trailblazer but prepared to sleep in a kennel.

You suspect he’d be wagging his tail right now if he weren’t so cool.

* New Tricks, BBC1, Tuesdays at 9pm on BBC1.