NOW, Scots love to have a new hero. But when half-Persian-half Celt Darius Danesh arrived on the pop scene 16 years ago with the 500 BC kingliness of his namesake Darius the Great, the media went into overdrive.

On a good day the singer was labelled vainglorious, but on a bad day Danesh (now Campbell-Danesh) was described as being more oleaginous than a tin of Castrol.

Regardless, the mononymous baritone has gone on to smile at his detractors, producing his predicted platinum album, revealing his powerful operatic oeuvre by winning Popstars to Opera stars and written a very clever book about his journey to pop fame.

In recent times he’s also become a successful film producer, with Daniel Radcliffe-starring spy thriller Imperium, and he’s a musical theatre star of course.

That’s the reason for meeting today, in a quiet café bar in Woking in Surrey round the corner from the theatre where he’s starring in the touring production of Funny Girl. But it also offers a backdrop to explore the character that is Darius. Is he 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 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.

“What we have to do is look back, see how we got here,” he maintains. “You see life is about overlapping cycles.” So who should we vote for, Darius?

“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.”

The nine year-old Darius hadn’t yet absorbed his father’s idealism. “I can remember being in my mum’s little Polo at the time and seeing a BMW from a Bond film and asked why we couldn’t have one, given my dad had invented the heart/lung machine. My dad said ‘Yes, Darius, but it would have taken me nine months of my life to launch it. Think how many lives I could have saved in that time.”

Darius Danesh 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.”

It’s hard not to see the outline of a halo appear above the dark-brown head. Is he too good to be true?

He answers the question in emphatic voice. “It’s about keeping the reality; It’s about perspective, understanding the needs of others. And 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. And that applies to this interview. I’ll answer you honestly in any question you ask me.”

Okay. Does dealing with a break-up involve retaining some form of relationship with your partner? “Yes, absolutely. And I have a connection with every single female I’ve had a relationship with, except one.” He adds, with a wry smile, “And it’s not for the want of trying. You see if you care about someone you don’t stop.”

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. Over the course of 12 years we broke up many times and had a period of six months apart. It was often a long distance relationship for half of it. That in itself was an amazing experience, but a painful one. When you love someone you want to be with them.

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

“The end of a relationship is a loss of self. Our relationships are the opportunity for us to experience the best and worst of ourselves. The other person is a mirror for us to see ourselves.” He adds; “You know, there are cultures in the world which suggest a break up should be seen as a period of mourning and I agree with that. If you don’t you compartmentalise and you suffer. 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 all comes back to us being authentic. Telling it as it is.

“We need as a community, as family, as Scots to be transparent and honest.”

During the conversation, particularly in talking about his dad, who almost died from cancer, Darius fights back tears. If they weren’t real he’s a far better actor than he’s perhaps been given for.

What emerges is a passionate 36 year-old who may still be super confident, and feel he has many of the answers, but these the questions are far more important.

Funny Girl, the King's Theatre Glasgow, May 30- June 3