At 16, Chris Eubank was a mess - smoking, drinking, taking dope, shoplifting and burglary were a way of life.

Within two years he had turned his life around and was on his way to fame and fortune in and outside the boxing ring.

What saved him was his mother and a tough introduction to life in New York's notorious Bronx district.

In his own words, the former super-middleweight world champion said: "I knew what I had to do. I had one more chance. I wanted to be a success and that meant not stealing, not drinking and not fighting."

As a teenager, Chris's father Irvin gave up trying to control his youngest son. He smoked his first cigarette when he was six and had started smoking dope at 12.

After being ejected from a series of care homes, he fell into a life of theft and deception.

He became part of a professional gang of thieves who made thousands from their crime sprees and just managed to stay one step ahead of the law.

His future as prison fodder seemed assured. But then his mother Ena sent the plane fare to New York and with that flight, Chris's life took an unexpected turn.

He was shamed into giving up smoking dope and drinking and decided to get body and soul in shape by going to church and joining a cheap neighbourhood gym.

A classic example of the hungry boxer syndrome, he worked as caretaker to pay his way and learnt his skill on the hoof. At first he was told he "punched like a girl".

But in time he learnt the "beauty" of the boxer's skill.

"I watched, I listened, I learnt, then I repeated, reviewed and revised. Every minute detail of every move or punch was practised thousands and thousands and thousands of times."

It took him two years to learn how to throw the right hand.

Chris had few friends and devoted his time to training. His first amateur fight lasted 30 seconds - the referee stopped the contest and declared Chris the loser. But, driven to succeed, he won the next eight fights and never looked back.

Details of Chris's past are revealed in his book out on Monday, Eubank: The Autobiography.

He recalls the major incidents that have shaped his life: his punishing bouts with Nigel Benn, the horrific injuries sustained by Michael Watson during their fight in 1991 and his friendship with Mike Tyson.

He talks proudly of meeting Nelson Mandela, of his views on the "mug's game" and his wife Karron and their four children.

During his career Chris has endured more pain than most men. But his experience at the hands of a surgeon would have most men running for the door.

He booked himself into a private hospital for a circumcision.

He said: "I insisted on no anaesthetic as I wanted to be fully aware of what they were doing down there, to make sure everything was as it should be. I even got them to place a mirror near my waist so I could see and observe ... it was fascinating."

Without doubt, the low point in his life was the car crash on the A23 in 1992 in which a man working by the roadside was killed. Chris recalls the effects as "utterly devastating".

He said: "I took a man's life by accident but what truly desolated me was that I took a mother's son . . . There were so many times I wanted to approach his mother and give myself as a son but I knew I could never do that."

Controversially, he lifts the lid on fight fixing, saying issues are "immensely complicated" behind the scenes.

"Suffice to say the best man does not always win ... Am I saying some fights are fixed? Absolutely."

He also reveals his sweeter side - a penchant for chocolate and confectionery.

And he discusses at length his addiction to bonbons.

On one occasion a thief broke into his truck and stole the on-board TV and video.

But much worse, they pilfered his supply of strawberry bonbons.

"They had ripened beautifully to the point where they were deliciously soft in the middle, something that can only be achieved with careful and experienced fermentation within a glove compartment. If they had taken my blackjacks, that would have been too much to handle."

He writes about his extravagances - buying the title Lord of the Manor of Brighton for £45,000, flying his hairdresser from Manchester to cut his hair weekly and his perfectionist nature.

"I have a responsibility to look good, correct and appropriate ... This is not a matter of being eccentric, it is just me being a professional."

He hopes he will be remembered as someone who broke the mould.

"With my dress code and being the Lord of the Manor of Brighton, hopefully in 300 years they will speak about me in the same way as they speak of other trailblazers - people who don't accept the standard but instead set standards."

Eubank is published by Collins Willow, priced £18.99.