Bonhomie was Michael Parkinson‘s hallmark and it was genuine, as evident off-air as on.

But there was another side to the gravel-voiced broadcaster’s personality which was less evident to his viewing and listening public.

There was steel running through this most affable of men. Working alongside him, you had the sense he would have become a forceful national newspaper editor, had broadcasting not stolen him away from print.

As it was, the harder edges of his personality were brought to bear ensuring high standards from producers, co-presenters – and even guests.

This became evident in some of the stories he would relate, often at the annual Christmas lunch he organised for contributors to his eponymous Radio 2 show during its 12- year run.

My favourite concerned the Hollywood A-lister who demanded she take the first interview-slot on his BBC TV show in the early noughties.

The actress in question had a film to promote, something Michael was already uneasy about, being eternally on guard to prevent his shows turning into PR-puffery.

So the request for the first slot was dismissed airily by Michael. He ruled and expected that to be the end of the matter.

It wasn’t. The movie star’s manager had other ideas and there ensued a game of ping pong, as the demand was repeated several times over, with increasing aggression.

With recording of the show running 30 minutes late thanks to the stand-off, Michael made his final ruling: the manager’s client would appear in the slot designated or she was off the show.

This was a more remarkable threat than it may seem. A prime-time show about which there had been tremendous pre-publicity would appear without the promised A-lister, and other guests would find their interviews extended.

The star’s Hollywood agent was a hard-man, so Michael had to make clear he was not bluffing.

“So I told him, the show was starting in two minutes with or without his client,” Michael explained.

“And I also told him that if we were forced to air without his client, then I would brief the media in person directly after the show, and I would explain in detail what had happened.”

This would of course mean awful publicity both for the manager and the star, each of whom gave way with ill grace. The no-nonsense boy from Barnsley had no trouble facing down the worst of Tinsel Town bullies.

There was comedy and self-mockery too.

Michael had us in stitches relating how he became annoyed at the way his Australian chat show had been produced years earlier. So much so that he packed his bags and told his agent he was taking the next flight back to London, half way through the show’s season.

Crisis talks ensued and Michael stayed. How come? “Because they put me in a room with the head of the station and he got me completely pi**ed.”

This had been achieved in an underhand way. The Aussie TV executive had started the mid-morning meeting offering alcohol and stating he fancied a whisky. Not to be outdone, Michael said he would have the same.

The executive appeared to down several large measures in the next hour, topping Michael up each time.

Only on the way out, deal done, did Michael clock the trick which had been played: his host had left empty glasses behind plants and ornaments all over the office, swapping them for full ones surreptitiously as he paced the room during the meeting. You had the impression Michael admired the sleight of hand.

His grit is there in the public record of his career if you look closely enough. He surprised the broadcasting world when he took his chat show from BBC to ITV.

He did this because, fairly or not, he suspected the Beeb was planning to axe him. A suspicion which increased when the Corporation executive responsible for the show’s fate declined a straight answer to a straight question and then evaded Michael for weeks on end.

The evasion ended after a couple of months, when Michael saw the man in question climbing out of his car outside Broadcasting House.

“You!”, Michael recalled shouting. ” I want a word with you!”

And then? “He started running away, he ran around and around his car with me chasing. He got away eventually, I never got an answer.”

So yes, Michael’s success lay partly in the fact he could be tough as well as avuncular.

He was also a great team-builder, creating almost a family atmosphere among those of us on his radio show. To us he was loyal, warm and supportive. We miss him already.

The author is managing director at Hanover Communications. He used to review the newspapers on Michael Parkinson’s Sunday morning Radio 2 show for 11 years.