As a youngster I never liked Jimmy Savile. I had Davey Jones and Il'ya Kuryakin on my walls, he could never appeal to me.
I used to sigh when Jim'll Fix It came on: that odd looking old man with that weird tarzan call - ugh! but there weren't that many channels to watch and my Dad had supreme control of the Doofer (remote control).
When he died, I was living in Leeds. When I learnt that his cortege was going to pass by my road end, I felt guilty that I'd mentally rubbished him for his looks, and he'd done so much good! So I dressed smartly and went to stand on the kerb as the coffin was driven past.
When stories first began to emerge, I stood up for him. The 1970s are a different country where, if you didn't come back from a party without getting nipped or squeezed, there was something wrong with you. I was never teenybopper material, I usually came home unsqueezed.
When stories nearer the truth began to emerge, I was horrified. I had never imagined anything like it. Even any of my friends who said, "We always Knew..." just meant that they'd thought him "a bit of a lad".
I'm half way through Part 2, and finding it repelling and fascinating in equal measure.
Steve Coogan has him off pat.