Nina's Darius World

It means to come over all indignant when those know-it-all judges on programmes like Pop Idol or Fame Academy tell you wearily that you are not the next Robbie Williams.

To do a really good Darius, you have to grit your teeth, let the tears collect in your eyes and storm off, vowing to have your own No.1 single one day.

The man who inspired the concept is rocking with laughter at the mayhem he's unleashed on the British public.

"I must apologise for any damage to the nation's eardrums," he says. "It's because of me there are all these poor sods saying, 'I'll be back'.

"Did you hear the guy who did Eye Of The Tiger on Pop Idol? He was hitting bum notes all over the place. I laughed till I cried. There are so many people who just haven't got a hope, but they think they're the best thing since sliced bread. It's very funny."

But point out that it doesn't seem long ago that we were all falling about at Darius's excruciating rendition of Britney Spears' Baby One More Time - a performance so jaw-droppingly awful it's since been voted one of the greatest musical moments on TV - and the laughter fades rather rapidly.

"Actually, that was quite a while ago," he says. "To be honest, most people don't really remember that. When people come up to me at book signings or whatever, the silly Britney thing just isn't in their consciousness.

"I think it is a residue that still creeps up in the press but mostly it's gone. It's in the past. I've had closure on it. I'm more concerned with my songwriting creativity and I think my fans are, too."

Closure? Consciousness? Creativity? The first thing you notice about Darius Danesh is he doesn't talk like any other 23-year-old from Bearsden in Glasgow.

He says things like, "I tend to intellectualise a decision after I've made it" (which roughly translates as "I don't think before I do things").

A simple question about his fan base elicits a reference to the alpha male. It's hard not to snigger.

"My fans? There are the young girls, of course but there's also their mothers. And their boyfriends. I was a bit taken aback by that at first. I'd go, 'An autograph for Tony? Is that you? Are you sure?' I'm not sure what it is because I don't really have a big gay fan base.

"I think it is maybe an alpha male thing. In me, men can maybe recognise their own struggle through life.

WE'VE all been in situations where people think we aren't going to make it, but some of us have the determination to make it happen. Maybe other men are inspired by that."

Maybe indeed. Or maybe they are just intrigued to see "that bloke from Popstars" in the flesh, minus the strange goatee and pigtail.

Flowery language and peculiar analogies aside, he does have a point. Thereis no doubt that Darius has succeed in pulling off the most dramatic reinvention on TV since little Tracy Barlow went upstairs in Coronation Street and came down a a teenager. The loser who became a national joke - remember "can you feel the love in this room?" - now has his No.1 single and a platinum album to boot.

And he has done it on his terms, turning down the offer of a record deal from Simon Cowell and Pete Waterman because he would have regarded that as "selling my soul to the devil".

He strides across the bar, ignoring my outstretched arm and goes straight for the hug-and-kiss combo, then launches into an explanation of how he is less cocky these days and more receptive to other people's feelings. Now, he says, he is being true to himself, not pretending to be someone he isn't.

"It has been a process of being sensitive to other people's thoughts and opinions. Before I never listened to anybody. Not my parents, not the judges on Popstars.

"I'd go out of my way to go against other people's advice. That's how I got my stupid ponytail and that beard."

In practice, however, it's hard to imagine Darius listening to anyone. He takes great glee in telling me he's had the opportunity to talk to one of the world's leading media gurus recently - "he'd worked with Tiger Woods and Bill Clinton" - before deciding that he didn't need that sort of help.

"I like to think I will listen now. I do take on board other people's ideas, although at the end of the day I always do things my way.

"For me, the musical integrity is all that matters. Why should I be worried about behaving in a certain way, saying certain things. All I care about is the music."

Which, of course, is why we are here talking about his new book.

For the last week, Darius has been on a national tour, not singing, but promoting Sink Or Swim, the lavishly-illustrated hardback book which tells the story of his life - all 23 years of it.

It is not, he insists, an autobiography because to write an autobiography at 23 would be, he agrees, just setting yourself up for cries of "who does he think he is?"

His explanation of why he wrote it is, again, uniquely, breathtakingly. He explains that, as a former literature student, he's always been fascinated by the genre and harbours ambitions to write a novel.

"I've been fascinated by the publishing world and have watched the success of books like Harry Potter, Bridget Jones's Diary and Lord Of The Rings," he explains. "And I realised I too had a story to tell.

"People would always ask me about what it was that made me come back after the Popstars humiliation but it was never a story I could tell before without detracting from my music.

"I didn't want to be known as the guy who did the expose because that's not me. Now I see it as closure."

And there's more.

"I wanted to do something that wasn't within the crop of sensationalist books, like the Ulrika book or the Beckham book, but a book that made people think.

"It is a book about the reality behind reality TV, about the rollercoaster ride to where I am now.

"If we live in the age of celebrity - as AA Gill said recently - I think I have a story to tell. I'm someone who has gone from being one of the public to someone in the public eye."

Darius is fascinated by celebrity and sees himself as an expert.

"It's a funny old word, celebrity, isn't it," he says. "It's weird there are people in this business who are famous for doing nothing.

BUT I don't think too much about the fame thing. Sure I have girls screaming at me. That's nice but it's not what I'm here for. I'm a singer-songwriter, pure and simple."

When you read Darius's own account of his journey through reality TV, then the wider music marketing machine, you do have to have a certain admiration for him.

In conversation, too, when he stops the pretentious talk and posturing and lets the real Darius through, he is very likeable.

What grates, however, is his insistence that everything he said on camera was taken out of context - his self-belief, he explains, was presented as cockiness. His "difficult" attitude was simply a reaction to finding himself in a conveyor-belt situation. That difference between reality and presentation that he keeps harping on about may well be something the press is sometimes guilty of. But Darius isn't immune either. He appears utterly convinced of his own self-importance - even when the facts simply do not back him up.

At one point he tells me that although he did not complete his English literature degree at Edinburgh University, he has since been awarded an honorary degree.

I point out that it is quite a coup to be given such an accolade so, er, early in his career.

"It is such a lovely feeling. I got a letter saying they'd given me an honorary... I hope my work was of a high enough standard but maybe it was also about the book. I certainly didn't think I'd write a book at 23."

Later, I replay the tape of the interview. Did he really claim to have an honorary degree? Perhaps he said "ordinary"? It isn't unheard of to be awarded an ordinary degree instead of an honours degree if you fail to complete the course. But the tape definitely says "honorary".

Finally, I decide to call Edinburgh University. They tell me Darius has been awarded no degree at all, either honorary or ordinary. He was simply given an Undergraduate Diploma In Higher Education, a standard exit qualification for someone who doesn't complete their studies.

In the book, Darius insists that he will always be there for his fans. "I never want to be in a position where I've got so many people around me I'm hard to approach," he says.

It's easy, of course, to be accessible when no one knows who you are. During our photoshoot, Darius greets a young boy walking towards him with a wide smile and a cheery, "How are you today?" The boy's mother looks anxious. They weren't autograph hunters after all.

-SINK Or Swim by Darius Danesh is published by Headline, priced �14.99. Call Mirror Direct on 0870 0703200.

The wisdom of DariusHERE are some, er, illuminating extracts from Darius's new book, Sink Or Swim...IN many ways, Mercury's enthusiasm was like that of a brand new record company, but it was an established major label and it was hungry. It was as hungry as I was. It was perfect. It was beyond belief. Six months previously I had written a song called Mercury Rising. I knew it was a sign! Omens brushed aside lie as ashes but if you can see the significance in the ember of a coincidence, it can grow into a fire.I LOOKED at my watch. Oh God! The audition had probably started. I ran upstairs, looked in the mirror and said: "Come on!" Then I tried a motivational technique Auntie Ashraf had told me about and stared into my own eyes, trying to visualise fire. I was about to set sail again. Clouds hung in the sky but something told me I had to make this journey. Far ahead, I was sure I could see sunshine.TIME was running out. My golden opportunity had turned to silver. Everyone kept telling me the window was closing. It was an intense time. I had a recurring nightmare. I would be standing in the lower part of an hourglass while grains of sand fell down. I couldn't get out. The sand would rise to my neck and reach my head. I could feel it. I'd wake up gasping. I couldn't breathe!