FIFTEEN year-old Alex Norton's diary entry of 1965 offers more than a clue the future TV detective wouldn't be handcuffed to convention.

"I want to lead the life I would lead if I had my life to live all over again," scribbled the rather profound schoolboy.

And the Gorbals-born actor certainly has.

His new autobiography There's Been A Life reveals Norton has dealt with more drama than his Taggart character has bin-bagged bodies.

It's a scintillating journey from Glasgow youth theatre to teen TV roles in the likes of Dr Finlay, from agitprop 7:84 Theatre Company to the Caribbean with the Pirates films and then back to Britain to breathe life into the ailing Glasgow detective series.

The memoir also reveals the bullied schoolboy who lost his mother to kidney failure at the same time as he wrote his diary mission statement, who fought with his plumber father because he chose not to follow him down the drains, and the man who became as passionate about beautiful women as he was the world of performance.

But there's an added layer to Norton which the bitter-sweet story doesn't quite uncover.

And today, once the cuddly tartan duffle coat and tammy are removed in the Glasgow hotel lounge, Norton settles in, then goes commando to bare his soul, declaring with a wry smile: "I've got an addictive personality and it's landed me in trouble a few times."

How so? Well, his passion for one woman was so intense it changed the course of his career. And his growing addiction to heroin, he admits, could have ruined his career.

"I decided to pursue a career in Hollywood," he recalls of his late 20s, his dark eyes twinkling with the reflection. "But I fell in love with a woman and was in thrall to her.

"She was crazy, truly crazy and I accepted this madness for a while because I was so besotted. However the relationship ended with her slashing the tyres of my car and trying to kill me with the knife. I had to go cold turkey, otherwise it would end in total disaster, so I left the States and came back home. It was about regaining self-belief because I was a moth to a flame and I was burnt to a crisp."

Norton seemed attracted to the, eh, rather capricious types.

"I guess," he grins at the understatement. "And there was a woman I met in London, at a party, and she was beautiful, and I really fell for her despite the fact she was pregnant. I felt like a wee boy when I was with her, like my trouser legs were rolling up and I had short trousers on. But she too was an extreme character."

He adds: "I found out later she'd been the mistress of a married film director and when he wouldn't marry her she stood outside his home with a placard revealing he was the father of her child. She went on to provide the inspiration for the Glenn Close character in Fatal Attraction."

Thankfully, Norton gave up on bunny boilers and is happily married to the (extremely balanced and lovely) actress Sally Kinghorn. But perhaps his extreme choices reflected his extreme moods?

In his early 20s, he suffered bouts of black depression and self-doubt, a result of the loss of his mother and heightened by knowing he'd never gone to drama school.

As a result, he felt he had to continually prove himself as an actor, to create the most realistic characters. Which explains how got caught up with heroin.

"In 1983, I made a TV series No Excuses, with Charlotte Cornwall, who'd been in (the hit drama) Rock Follies. Charlotte played a female rock star and I played the lead guitarist in the band. Now us actors in the band were cast because we could play, but we didn't.

"Instead, we watched and copied a real band on set. And it happened that these guys were all dabbling in heroin, sniffing it, regularly off their heads.

"So there was us, the kid-on band, wondering what it would be like to be in a similar state? As actors, young daft actors we reckoned if we took the drug and got off our faces on smack we'd convince better as a rock band."

Method acting at its worst?

Yes, indeed. "So one day we said to the real band 'Can we try a wee bit of that?' And we did. And it was wonderful. I felt great. No pain. No anxieties. Fantastic.

"But at the same time I thought 'That's it. No more of that stuff'. However, a few days later I was asked if I fancied a bit more. 'Just a wee dab.' And it continued. I kidded myself that this was okay, because I wasn't paying for it or anything. Not me. I'd never go down that road.

"But a week later, us guys in the kiddy-on band were feeling a bit uncomfortable about taking the real band's drugs for nothing so we agreed to chip in some money to help out. And I still figured this was okay, because after the series was over I'd forget about playing the rock star and never touch the stuff again."

O R SO he thought. "It didn't happen. One night, one of the guys in our band called me up and suggested we should get more heroin. Before I knew it, I found myself going round to one dealer's house at midnight, buying bloody heroin and then chasing the dragon, using the silver foil and all."

The sensation was still "fantastic", Norton says, but he knew he was now on the road to Hell. He'd been around cannabis in his years as a folk musician. But this was way heavier.

"I knew I was in trouble," he recalls. "I knew if I continued I was kissing goodbye to a career.

"This was a warning and I knew I had to get out. And I stopped. Just like that. I guess there's always been a wee policeman at the back of my head saying; 'Watch out, son!' But others weren't so lucky.

"One of the musicians, Gary Holton, was doing it and he died.

"At least I had the good sense to walk away because the heroin effects were so pernicious, so seductive you could find yourself in a motor at midnight outside a drug dealer's house."

Father-of-three sons Norton went on to develop a great career, as convincing playing authoritarian figures (he's been Napoleon three times) as comedy characters (now in Bob Servant Presents). He brings a real truth to his creations, perhaps because there's a real truth to the man - highlighted by his writing.

That's why he names those showbiz creatures whom he's fallen out with, such as 7:84's creator, the socialist John McGrath (who denied Norton song royalties) and one-time employer writer John Byrne. "He was a s*** to us," says Norton.

Yet, he fails to post a tale without a humour attachment, such as upsetting acting giant John Hurt while co-starring in the 1989 movie Scandal.

"In a misplaced attempt at geniality, I told him how brilliant he was in The Elephant Man.

"But as he smiled and thanked me for the compliment, I asked 'And will you be doing any of the follow-ups?' 'Follow-ups?,' he quizzed,'What follow-ups?' 'You know," I answered, 'Return of The Elephant Man. Bride of The Elephant Man, Abbott and Costello Meet The Ele -."

"But his amiable smile vanished like snow off a dyke, and I felt like I had just farted in church. And he totally blanked me the next time we met."

As a theatre director, Norton also upset Hollywood star James McAvoy. "We met at the Baftas and I told him I was a real fan of his work. But he looked at me and said 'Don't you remember we met before?' I replied, 'No? Where?' He said 'I auditioned for you for the King's panto'.

"And I offered a wry smile and said 'And you're going to tell me I knocked you back, aren't you?'

"His face remained straight and he said 'Yeh'. And I said 'Well, I'm really sorry I f**** your career up'. But he didn't laugh at this at all." (The part went to another hopeful called Billy Boyd.)

Norton is still intense about his acting, his writing, still a perfectionist. But the demons of depression have gone away, and the phone calls from his agent keep coming in. Is he happy the way life has turned out?

"I'll quote a line from director Hugh Hudson on that one," he says, grinning. "My life has been a roller coaster. But at least I got a ride."