Alan Brazil He says what he thinks

Brazil has often hit the headlines for all the wrong reasons, but 1.5m listeners can’t be wrong.

Alan Brazil is the gobby Glaswegian with the gift of the gab. He makes a living from his opinions and is never lost for words. In short, he’s the king of talk radio.

Former Scotland player Brazil’s audience numbers on radio station talkSPORT consistently go up. He recently recorded record figures of 1.5 million listeners a week.

But, thanks to the fact he’s hit the headlines for all the wrong reasons over the years, there remains a suspicion in some quarters he’s a bit of a chancer who doesn’t really know what he’s doing on air. That does him a

disservice. Listen to his show and it’s slick and professional. So maybe we shouldn’t be surprised to find he was recently inducted into the Radio Hall of Fame.

And he’s in good company.

Brazil, 55, joined the likes of Richard Dimbleby, Noel Edmonds and Terry Wogan, all recognised for their contribution to the airwaves over the years. But the man himself plays down the accolade.

“You know, honestly, I think talkSPORT were more excited than I was. I tend to go by how many listeners we have. That tells me if people like it. Though when you look at some of the names down there, you do think wow.”

He shrugs off his controversies, the latest being his criticism of Robin Williams for taking his own life.

“I don’t see controversy in those so-called controversial moments,” he says.

“The Robin Williams one was quite simple. I thought my wife said Robbie Williams was dead and I thought, oh no. But then she said it was Robin and it didn’t hit me right away.

“When you do something like that, you leave other people behind to clear up the mess. And when there’s kids involved, I’m sorry, you can’t do that. You cannot and should not do that,” he says.

You may agree or disagree with what The Sunday Post columnist says. But in a way, that’s all part of his success. He tells it like he sees it and you can disagree with him all you like, he isn’t going to lose any sleep over it.

Well, the man does have to get up at stupid o’clock.

In this world of stage-managed scared-to-say-a-word celebrities, there’s something refreshing about someone who simply doesn’t give a hoot. His loyal listeners clearly agree. In fact, when Brazil was previously fired over an earlier misdemeanour he was enjoying himself so much at Cheltenham Races the small matter of his show seemed to slip his mind 4,500 outraged fans flooded the station with calls to reinstate him in just over 24 hours.

Thanks to those kind of headlines, he’s often described as a hellraiser, a hardened drinker or you might say just your average Scottish party animal.

“Och, I’ve mellowed. I’ve definitely quietened down. I still love the five days at Cheltenham though. But people have got to understand what I’m like. If I’m not doing my show properly then fine. But if I can do what I do and still get the audience up, then they should leave me alone!”

He’s a touch more sensitive than his in-your-face radio manner might suggest. When I put it to him that people think he’s a bit of a chancer who got lucky, he’s not too happy.

“Well, if they want to think that, good luck to them” he says, wounded. “As far as I’m concerned I’ve won awards and I know what I’m talking about. So it hasn’t been a fluke, let me tell you.”

Brazil’s football career was cut short by injury at just 27. And of course, the game is different now.

“If I was playing now, I could play three, four or five years and be made for life. And you know, I don’t think that would be good for me. I’d be bored. When I have a few weeks off radio, I miss it,” he says. He might not earn what the football millionaires earn, but rumour has it he’s not far off £300,000 a year.

That must help him get up at 3.45 in the morning to do his four-hour show. Like Sir Alex Ferguson, another of Glasgow’s famous footballing sons, he puts his work ethic down to his upbringing.

“Without a doubt that helped. Fergie and I were brought up with the same will to work hard. I LOVE my city. I’ve been all over, but I’m still Glaswegian.”

What’s been his most embarrassing moment?

“The first was during the Cricket World Cup. We went live to South Africa and our guy was building up the atmosphere. I asked if Hansie Cronje would be joining him. After a pause he said, ‘Hansie died in a plane crash’. And all I could think of to say was, ‘I’m sorry, I must have been on holiday’. As I finished the interview I was thinking, noooo!”

He cringes, even now.

“The other was Bob Monkhouse. I love Bob. And I said on air, ‘how is he?’ And they replied, ‘Alan, Bob is dead’. And I said, ‘No, I knew he’d been ill but I’d heard he was on the mend’. I laugh now, but I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

Behind the stories, there’s a determination about Brazil. It surely stood him in good stead when he appeared as a witness at the trial of former Celtic Boys’ Club coach Jim Torbett, who was jailed in 1998 for shameless and indecent conduct involving youngsters, including Brazil.

He admits he got a quiet satisfaction, all those years later, from seeing justice done.

“I think the easiest way to describe it is, when the judge said to me, ‘Thank you, you can leave Mr Brazil’, I said, ‘No actually, I’d like to sit here and watch the rest of the proceedings’.

“Because I wanted to see him squirm. I was so pleased he was jailed especially when you heard the horrendous stories about what went on with other guys.”

He wouldn’t swap those glory days of playing football though.

“June 15, 1982 I got to play in the World Cup with one of my heroes, Kenny Dalglish,” he remembers without prompting.

“Magnificent. It’s different these days. The guys playing now are fitter, but they don’t have the same comradeship and pals.

“We would win as a team, lose as a team, go out drinking as a team. That’s not there any more.”

Away from his career, he’s been married to Jill for 33 years. What’s the secret of their marriage?

“Time apart,” he cackles.

“I honestly think if you’re together, seven days a week, that makes it harder. Nah, listen, pick the right one simple as that!”

He’s a doting dad of three girls, Michelle, 31, Lucy, 29, and Stephanie, 23. He’s also granddad to Michelle’s daughter Athena.

As he talks about them, he sounds like a bit of a softie.

“I can be, but I can be hard when I need to be,” he says. “And it’s worked. Pray God, touch wood, my children are brilliant and to this day they’ve never caused me any hassle at all.”

He can’t resist a wee rant about the state of the nation.

“A little bit of discipline in schools, a little bit of discipline at home. When I was a kid, when I was out of order, it did me no harm whatsoever,” he says. “I got a wee slap, absolutely.

“Schools now are a disgrace. Teachers have got no chance. But when I say stuff like that, people say I’m out of touch.”

Those 1.5 million listeners would surely disagree.