HOW can you not want to interview someone who used to ride to school on a unicycle and spend his lunchtimes juggling?

And how can you not be interested in a man whose first job on leaving school was in a circus?

It transpires both of Geordie star Ross Noble's parents were extremely liberal-minded teachers. They'd seen enough young ambitions thwarted by myopic members of their profession and didn't want their son to miss out on the dream.

But what if his parents hadn't allowed young Ross to go to school on a unicycle and join the circus?

"I grew up in a new town, in a Barratt-type estate went to a regular comprehensive," he recalls.

"We went on caravan holidays. It was as 'normal' as you can get.

"And perhaps because of it, I thought 'I can't end up washing my Ford Sierra on a Sunday.'

"I had to do my own thing."

He adds, grinning: "If my parents had been stricter, maybe I would have stayed with the circus."

When Ross gave up on the big top and decided to pursue comedy, it was his stand-up comedian/writer cousin Mickey Hutton who got him his first gig at a local comedy club.

"It was like riding a motorbike - terrifying at first, but then you get the hang of it and start to look around," says Ross.

Twenty three years on, he's certainly got the hang of it, as Glasgow audiences next week will see.

Yet what of his comedy performance? He has a free-range, daydream-like imagination, a mind that can take him - and an audience - anywhere.

But does he worry about going out there in front of thousands, or millions on TV, unscripted?

"Not a lot," he says, grinning. "The stuff I do is not a list on a piece of paper, it's more like the interface thing in Minority Report, with pictures in the mind, and I just grab at whatever I can."

So there is no fear factor?

"Not really. People have the idea it's somehow dangerous, it's a high wire act. But it's not.

"What I've come to realise is my act is just about playing, playing with ideas with a group of people who also want to play."

Ross only appears on two British TV shows, Have I Got News For You and QI. Why?

"I've got to be careful what I say because I've been in trouble for slagging off other shows. But the reason I do these two is because they are freeform, as opposed to the others which are set up.

"On some shows, it's just a load of blokes ready to do the line they've prepared. And when you work with these people it's just tiring."

Ross adds: "I think comedians have to be allowed the possibility of failure to get to the place where everyone works together, where a joke can be expanded upon."

Would he do a Royal Variety Show?

He laughs before answering; "There are loads of people desperate to do all sorts of shows, but I'm a stand-up. I don't need telly for the publicity and I only do the TV I'd watch myself."

So would he do a Royal Variety Show?

"Even the celebrity charity game shows you are offered come with a fee. A very large fee sometimes.

"And you wonder why they don't just give the money direct to charity. While I'm not knocking people who do them, it's not for me."

So he wouldn't do the Royal Variety Show then?

"I think the Royals, at times, do a great job raising money for good causes. They're not off eating swan all the time.

"But performing to people in evening dress, tugging forelocks and coming on after the tumblers? It's not really me. I like to do things on my own terms."

His comedy mind was formed as a youngster by listening to an interesting array of funny people.

"I loved Frankie Howerd as a kid, then as I got older it was the folk circuit comedians such as Billy Connolly, Mike Harding, Richard Digance and Jasper Carrott who got me laughing.

"Then, later, it was the American stand-ups such as Richard Pryor and Jonathan Winters, who had inspired Robin Williams."

Now, Ross is very much his own man who makes his own mark on audiences with his own original thought. (He once dedicated an entire show to Southport's lawnmower museum.)

More recently, he did a gig in Sheffield and commented on the child abuse scandal. What will he be talking about in Scotland?

"Can't not talk about the referendum," he says, grinning.

His parents, at least, must be delighted they didn't curtail the uncontainable mind.

"I'm not sure," he says, grinning.

"It must, after all, be difficult to really respect someone's achievements when you've personally potty trained them."

n Ross Noble Tangentleman Clyde Auditorium September 26