The city elders of Milan wanted Mike Bongiorno interred alongside one of Italy's greatest writers, Alessandro Manzoni. His family decided to respect his wishes and have him buried instead in a village on the shores of Lake Maggiore.

But Silvio Berlusconi's government decreed he should have a state funeral, and yesterday thousands of mourners, including the prime minister, packed Milan cathedral for a service celebrated by a bishop and four priests. Carabinieri in full dress uniform, carrying swords and wearing plumed tricorns, stood guard over the coffin. For a day and a half it had lain in state in the grounds of the Sforza castle as thousands more people filed past.

Crafted in mahogany, it bore a red sash on which was printed in gold letters: "Cheer Up!"

Only perhaps in Berlusconi's Videocracy could a state funeral be accorded to a TV quizmaster. Bongiorno, who died of a heart attack in Monte Carlo on Tuesday at the age of 85, was Italy's Bruce Forsyth. Just as the host of the Generation Game would burst on to the set with "Nice to see you, to see you – nice!", so Italy's veteran showman had his signature greeting of "Allegria!".

But while Forsyth has had to content himself with a modest CBE, Bongiorno – once notoriously described by Umberto Eco as embodying "absolute mediocrity" – was sped into the afterlife with honours normally reserved for his country's most valiant heroes and illustrious geniuses.

For almost 20 years, he was the top presenter on Berlusconi's Mediaset network. He pioneered the presenter-endorsed advertising that has become one of the network's hallmarks, and a rich source of income for its billionaire owner.

After a reportedly acrimonious break, Bongiorno defected to Rupert Murdoch's Sky network in March – just weeks before Berlusconi's wife announced she was divorcing him, and launched the first in a stream of allegations concerning the prime minister's sex life.

The death of the compere came at another ominous moment for Berlusconi. Last week saw the first serious breach in his governing majority when Gianfranco Fini, the "post-fascist" speaker of the lower house, openly criticised him. Fini's attack followed the publication of a statement to police by a businessman who claims to have procured some 30 women for parties at Berlusconi's Rome residence, and paid at least six who stayed the night.

Yesterday's service was carried live by all three major networks, with images from the cathedral intercut with footage of Bongiorno's career: the giant timepiece used in the Italian version of Beat the Clock; Bongiorno awarding prizes in the local re-make of Wheel of Fortune; the quizmaster flanked by showgirls.

Though state funerals have since been held for victims of notable disasters, the last individual to be honoured in this way, four years ago, was Nicola Calipari, an intelligence chief shot dead in Iraq.

Bongiorno returned from the US as a boy with his Turin-born mother and during the Second World War joined the anti-fascist partisans. He was captured and spent time in Mauthausen concentration camp.

Bongiorno's characteristic, crescent-moon smile was seen by viewers on the first day of official TV transmissions in Italy by the state-owned RAI and he was among the earliest television celebrities to throw in his lot with Berlusconi's nascent commercial network.

In a 1961 essay, Eco wrote that Bongiorno's secret was not to make any viewer, even the most naive, feel inferior. But the view of most left-wing intellectuals mellowed with time, perhaps a reflection of their gradual resignation to an Italy Berlusconi and his associates have made their own. An editorial in the radical daily, Il Manifesto, last week credited Bongiorno with having furthered the "elementary schooling of the small screen".

The bishop, Monsignor Erminio De Scalzi, paid a more effusive tribute, ending his sermon on the word "allegria". Speaking to reporters outside the cathedral, Berlusconi described Bongiorno as "a good, simple, positive man".