The veteran broadcaster has taken a few knocks in life. But he's back, he's in great shape – and he's 40 times the broadcaster he used to be

Why have you decided to publish an autobiography now?

It just made sense to do it while I can. When a man reaches my age the risk of prostate cancer pretty much skyrockets. The spectre of an inoperable genital tumour aside, the money will come in handy too! That's not to say I'm not earning much (I am earning much), it's just that I'm forced to surrender a lot of it in the form of tax, thanks to the political stance that you and your newspaper have helped to popularise.

Is it a tacit acknowledgement that your best years in broadcasting are behind you?

Let me walk you through it like a simpleton (you being the simpleton). I broadcast a four-hour radio show, five days a week. The suggestion that that is somehow a step down from presenting a half-hour TV talk show once a week (20 hours of weekly output, versus 0.5 hours) is a genuine side-splitter. I'm statistically 40 times the broadcaster I was then. That's just maths.

Your new book, I, Partridge, has a unique aural component. Can you explain how it's meant to work?

Sure can. My autobiog has a suggested soundtrack. At key moments in the book I give the title of a song that should be played to enhance the experience of reading that particular paragraph. For example, the song Japanese Boy by Aneka for the section in which I describe the drunken night out in Tokyo where Sally Gunnell encourages me to throw a bin through a shop window. I wanted my publishers to put the soundtrack on a CD and give it away with the book but – to be frank – I don't think they could be arsed. No wonder we're in a recession.

You have a gift for unexpected simile, eg, "Snowflakes fell from the sky like tiny pieces of a snowman who had stood on a land mine." Who are your literary influences, if any?

A true writer, a good writer, refuses to be influenced by any other writer – it's cheating otherwise. My influences come from elsewhere. I'm inspired by the chord choices of Sting, the camera angles of Scorsese, a dog catching a frisbee, the satisfying gu-dum of a German-built car door shutting, the shimmy of Shakira's sweet ass. I draw on every one of these things when I'm in my study.

The book is a very personal account of your life and career to date. Would you call it a "warts and all" portrayal?

It's warts, verrucas, moles, psoriasis, the lot. I'd even include the blackheads on my nose. I looked at them with a shaving mirror the other day actually. Disgusting. It was like the world's most densely-packed dot-to-dot puzzle. I tried to get rid of them with a blackhead gun made out of a ballpoint pen. But there were simply too many. I just ended up with slightly fewer blackheads and a very red nose. Hey-ho.

You write a lot about your unhappy childhood. Was it really that bad?

It was pretty dark. My father was a naturally gifted corporal punisher. He was also fearless – when conscripted to fight in the second world war, he was delighted. Apparently he just punched the air and said: "I'm off to save a Jew or two!" But he came back a troubled man. To be honest I don't think he did save a Jew. Or two.

You have an incredible memory for detail. Have you always kept a diary?

The only diary I keep is the one inside my mind. Plus a written one that I fill in at the end of every day. I keep my brain in shape by doing the Daily Mail quick crossword. (Love their ironic use of the word "quick".) I'm also pretty gung-ho about cod liver oil tablets. Though I'd be just as happy with oil from the liver of any other fish. In fact it wouldn't even need to be from the liver.

A lot of authors use their autobiographies to settle old scores. Were you tempted?

God yeah. Originally there were revelations in there about all sorts of people, until I spent a fascinating and hilarious afternoon going through the book and audiobook with my lawyers. Armed with a red pen, we totted up the offending passages and the final scores were: defamation (144), slander (72), libel (72) and malicious falsehood (1). All I can say is that as a result one particular celebrity will have breathed a very big sigh of relief. I won't reveal who it is, other than to say it's John Craven.

You furnish your readers with some interesting strategies for living – Alan's Desk Design, your Nando's Efficiency System – have you ever thought about writing a self-help book?

I've explored this territory before. After bouncing back, I designed Forward Solutions™, a highly successful self-improvement programme supported by the twin crutches of corporate buzz-words and rock music. I delivered it to sales teams the length and breadth of parts of the UK and, in nearly a third of cases, sales briefly went up. The strategies you mention are probably better suited to housewives than successful men, but it's an interesting idea for a book. Call my office in the morning.

If an election were held tomorrow, how would you vote?

Quickly and Conservatively. I recently read that George Osborne changed his name from Gideon to George because he thought it sounded more prime-ministerial. He was 13 at the time. Now if that's not the kind of guy we want running our country, I don't know what is.

Who would play you in the film of the book of your life?

Morgan Freeman. He's such an incredible actor you'd quickly forget he's one of the blackest men in Hollywood. Or ITV man John Stapleton. He's not known as an actor – but he will be. I've seen him act out domestic arguments and exchanges with shopkeepers and I've seen enough to know he will become one of our best-loved actors. He has bags of talent.

Without wishing to spoil the ending, would you describe yourself as a happy man these days?

So far today I've done my radio show, had oven chips for lunch and been to Laser Quest. What's not to be happy about? It's at times like this that I think Belinda Carlisle was right when she said that Heaven is a Place on Earth. Though she should have added "and that place is Norwich". Saw her on TV the other week actually. She's ballooned.