On my show this afternoon, I paid the briefest of tributes to one of the formative figures in my life, Paul Walters, who died this morning. It was a bizarre experience for so many reasons, not least because I was broadcasting to a small local radio audience who may never have knowingly encountered Pauly or his work (chances are, they have); but it was something I wanted to do, just to say a small thanks to a great man who's inspired me enormously over the years.

Radio 2's website is today awash with tributes from hundreds of the many millions of listeners whose lives he touched, each of them writing about somebody they consider to be a dear friend. I'm with them on that.

As a young listener of 15 or 16, I would write to Pauly with contributions for Wake Up to Wogan scarcely expecting them to be read, let alone read out; yet, then and for the next eight years, my best work always made it to air. Often a reply would arrive, answering a question I'd asked about the intimate workings of the show, or a pose for the studio webcam would be arranged to acknowledge that they'd got the joke.

Here's the good Dr Wally getting ready for surgery...

Under Pauly, the show became the ultimate circle of friends ribbing one another, with just one line sparking hilarity for all. Pauly, Dr Wallington P. De Wynters Walters, was every bit as ingrained on the character of the show as Wogan himself. He found himself at the centre of the recurring gags: the party at which he accidentally launched a cocktail sausage at Lord Reith's portrait; the teasing about living at home with his mother (which, of course, he didn't!); the many 'nieces'; the infamous "accident", just as Wogan opened the microphone; and the mimes on the radio, like walking into the wind.

Of course, if you're not a listener, all this will mean very little; but if you are, it will mean the world.

On the occasions I met him, I couldn't help but be in awe of his style. At the helm of the country's most popular breakfast show, he ambled back and forth between Wogan's studio and the cubicle next door, performing his many and varied roles with the utmost control and calm, still with time enough to speak to you like you were the most important visitor in the world. That's production at its highest and most elegant level. So many could learn from him.

He once arranged for me to interview Wogan for my student radio show (my gently probing request was met with the kind of welcoming response that made me question why I hadn't asked sooner). Pauly explained that he wouldn't be there on the day, or indeed on Wake up to Wogan that morning, as he was off to the golf. For the purposes of the show, his silence was to be explained by a gumboil which rendered him unable to speak. Nobody would really believe it, of course, but it was the perfect analogy for how the show felt that morning; the listeners might not have heard Pauly's voice, but they could still quite believe he was there, busying himself in the background.

Now, we'll have to learn to believe it all over again. It's been eleven months since he last worked on the show, and yet still you hear his influence breaking through. The ultimate legacy. As one well meaning but slightly confused tribute on the Radio 2 website reads, "never a day went by when I thought of Pauly".

I think I can imagine his response now...