Writer and broadcaster Bill Heine on the late Tony Benn

Tony Benn died at his home in Notting Hill last Friday. Almost everything he did made the television news programmes and the newspaper headlines, so most people thought they knew him, or at least had an opinion about him. But what was he like away from the limelight? I was fortunate enough to find out.

When he stood down from Parliament 15 years ago, Tony Benn announced his “retirement” in typical fashion. “Having served for nearly half a century in the House of Commons I now want more time to devote to politics and more freedom to do so.”

Of course he didn’t retire. He rolled up his sleeves and joined Oxford impresario Clive Conway to present a series of talks around the country called “An Evening with Tony Benn”.

The first part was an interview followed by a question and answer session.

Clive told me: “He brought the house down with his wit, charisma and yet humility.

“Tony said we were reigniting the public meeting uninterrupted by Jeremy Paxman or John Humphries.”

Four years ago Clive asked me to tour the country with Tony, introduce him to the audience, interview him and, after the interval, compere the public question sessions at places like the Buxton Opera House and Norwich Arts Centre.

It was a baptism of fire. At our first meeting I asked “How would you like me to introduce you … as a ‘national treasure’?

He was forthright. “I am definitely not a ‘national treasure’. Treasure is usually buried and I’m still very much alive. Calling people a ‘national treasure’ is turning them into a safe, well trained puppy dog. There are times when I feel like a panther that still has the power to pounce.”

That was the only time he pounced at me and I never fell into that trap again, but a lot of news articles this week used that cliché and I can just hear in my mind’s ear the sound of grinding teeth.

In the middle of our first interview on stage at a packed venue, when I was asking him about his time in Harold Wilson’s cabinet when the PM wanted Tony ‘to transform Britain in the white heat of technology’, a mobile phone rang and rang loudly.

The sound grew in volume and seemed to attack us in wave upon wave that echoed throughout the auditorium. It was slightly surreal and scary until Tony Benn took his mobile from his coat breast pocket just behind his clip-on microphone. He handed it to me and asked “How do I stop it?”

I didn’t know either, so I took the phone, walked off stage and gave it to the theatre manager. Then without missing a step I went back and continued to interview the former Minister of Technology.

One of his favourite themes was ‘democracy’.

To illustrate this he posed five questions for the powerful.

“In the course of my life I have developed five little democratic questions. If one meets a powerful person – Adolf Hitler, Joe Stalin or Bill Gates – ask them five questions: ‘What power have you got? Where did you get it from? In whose interests do you exercise it? To whom are you accountable? And how can we get rid of you? If you cannot get rid of the people who govern you, you do not live in a democratic system.”

Another of his great themes was ‘progress’. I once asked him when he first realised he was a relentless optimist on ‘progress’. “I wouldn’t say ‘relentless’ more ‘realistic’,” he replied. No battles are lost forever, nor won forever. It’s the same each time with progress. First, they ignore you, then they say you’re mad, then dangerous, then there’s a pause and then you can’t find anyone who disagrees with you.”

When Tony invited me to his house in Notting Hill for an interview, I discovered he was a great tea drinker, in fact an alcohol teetotaller who admitted to drinking up to 18 pints of tea a day. It became clear that this great intellectual was also greatly practical.

“When you reach my age, you have to remember to be very careful about your bladder on marches.

“You can’t drink any tea for about 24 hours beforehand.”

After this observation he disclosed “one of the benefits of old age. I was driving from home to Parliament and was ‘caught short’.

“So I pulled the car over to the side of the road and opened the bonnet, got out, unzipped and leaned over the engine. As luck would have it, a Bobby came up, tapped me on the shoulder, asked if anything was wrong and stuck his head under the bonnet. ‘Oh, I see, a water problem. I’m sure that will be fixed shortly. Good day, Sir.’”

I could go on. I wish Tony Benn could too.