I grew up in a colossal extended family where we all lived cheek by jowl on the Higher Folds housing estate in Leigh, Greater Manchester. A family member moving a mile-and-a-half away was considered quite a distance – and it still is.

My uncle Martin, or Orms, is only two years older than me so he was more like a brother when I was growing up. My first memory is the two of us fighting over a red pedal car in the ginnel [a narrow passage] by his house.

My younger brother Paul came along when I was six. Martin and I already had a brotherly dynamic, so I was a bit resentful of this little sod coming along. In fact, Paul would consider it remiss of me if I didn’t use this opportunity to confess that I was an absolute bastard of a brother to him for the first few years of his life. Once, after he spilt a bottle of Vimto on the floor, Martin and I sent him to the top of the street with a backpack. We told him that he was going to be picked up by a man in a white van who would take him to another family. I’ve since made reparations and we are the best of friends now.

I was a fussy eater as a child and one of, literally, four things I would eat was fried fish from the chippy. When my dad was on nights, he went to bed for two hours and then got up, collected me from school at lunchtime, took me to the chippy and brought me a fish to eat. He then dropped me back at school and went home to sleep again.

My parents did everything for me when I was growing up. I was like one of those Italian sons who don’t have to lift a finger. The hilarious apotheosis of this came when I was studying at college at Leeds. My parents would insist on driving me there and picking me up at the end of each term. One Easter, I went with my mates from Leigh to see Living Colour play in Leeds and we planned to stay at my student house. My mate Leon drove us and on the M62 he said to me, “So, how do we get to your house?”. I didn’t have a clue because I had never had to navigate my way there.

Everyone thinks I’m Dr Fun, always having a laugh, but when it comes to being a single parent to my sons, Arthur, eight, and Wilfy, six, I’m not that guy a lot of the time. I remember stopping at some motorway services during a hellish and torturous journey. I was trying to get the boys’ seat belts on and they kept playing about. In the midst of gales of laughter, Wilfy said, “Oh, Daddy. Why do you never smile?” It completely flattened me. These are things that happen as a parent; your ego is checked at the door every single day.

It’s weird what kids hold as cherished memories. They just enjoy hanging out with you, not doing much. We spent half an hour yesterday at home just bottle-flipping – you know, that thing all the kids are doing that’s really annoying? But we made it into a competition and it was absolutely awesome.

My dad is the main reason I do the job I do. He is renowned as being a card. He’s always got the mot juste; he has always got the gag ready much quicker than I have. He has always got hilarious jokes in his locker. Occasionally, he will text me a bit of material that I’ll use on my 6 Music breakfast show.

My parents are quintessentially proud parents. My mum will be rushing out to read this interview when it hits the newsstands. My dad sent me a lovely text the other day while I was on the air. It read, “I’m just in heaven here sat in my back garden, the sun’s out, I’m holding a freshly brewed cup of coffee and my boy’s on the radio. It’s fantastic.”

• Shaun Keaveny is among the presenters of the BBC Radio 6 Music festival in Glasgow, 24-26 March. In April, Shaun celebrates 10 years as the host of the 6 Music breakfast show, weekdays 7-10am.