IS THIS really Muriel Gray who sits next to me in Glasgow’s Oran Mor theatre bar? Having never met the lady before, the impression gained from her media appearances over the years on the likes of The Tube and The Media Show is one of a rather serious, dry creature, intense and often as spikey as her white blond hair. Laughter, you imagined, could emerge only if laced with cynicism. Even when Munroing on the telly she seemed to be channelling the rather self-aware voice of the late Fyfe Robertson.

You would also guess that given her success - frontlady in a punk band, Head of Design in a leading museum, national television presenter, Doctor of Letter, TV production company mogul, millionaire, best-selling author, award-winning columnist, the only woman Rector of Edinburgh University, Vice Chair, mother of three children. (And lets’ not forget an appearance in The Broons) Gray is more driven than the Queen?

“I’m not really ambitious,” she says, giggling. “No, it’s an Art School thing, about constantly trying to express yourself in different areas.”

Right now, she’s adding Playwright to her cv, having written a new play for Oran Mor’s lunchtime theatre. (More of later). But what is Muriel Gray, you ask? She laughs aloud at the question. “I guess I’m across the board mediocrity. Jack of all trades, master of none.” Come on. Stop the self-deprecating sillyness, Muriel.

“I didn’t plan it,” she maintains, grinning. “You know, life is just a mindf***. For example, I’ve just come from the Glasgow School of Art where and I’ve been saying to myself ‘How can I be responsible for the governance of a place in which I used to write graffiti in the walls, and carve my initials into woodwork?

“I’m also on the board of the British Museum, which is also weird, because I used to be the punk designer who would take the phone off the hook and fall asleep under my drawing board, with a pencil next to me in case someone came in, which always made an indent in my face.”

Gray maintains she never set out to be famous, and indeed her appearances on The Tube from 1982 came about as an accident after her punk band auditioned. Indeed she throws a critical voice at her younger self. “Oh, man, I was awful. And so snooty. But I certainly wasn’t after fame. In fact the Eighties was all about anti-fame, which is the opposite of the way life is now.” Even the less than shy Paula Yates wasn’t keen on doing interviews. And I share the story about how Yates eventually agreed to be interviewed, but, just for the fun of it, tried to distract by flashing her breasts.

“Oh my God, can I say right now that is not going to happen here,” says Gray, howling with laughter. “It was my 58th birthday yesterday and I don’t think they stand scrutiny.” A devilish look appears on her face. “Although I did flash once.” Eh? Muriel Gray? Feminist. Politically right-on, in a left wing way? “Our rather fey punk band (The Family Von Trapp) was booked to play at a bikers bar in Kinghorn in Fife once. Anyway, I got on stage with my wee cherry red guitar and someone shouted out ‘Show us your t**s’.’

And she did, now miming how the stick-slim punk chick immediately pulled up her t-shirt to reveal Gray’s anatomy to the boys in greasy leather. “Then I heard this shout from the audience (disinterested voice) ‘No, you’re all right!’” She laughs really hard at her own folly. “That was 30 years ago. It’s not for now.”

Gray is a grafter (“I haven’t stopped working since I was fourteen and washed dishes.” But success unlikely given she was brought up in new town East Kilbride, in a cash-strapped family. Did she see a glass ceiling? “That’s a really good question. I didn’t see it, but came up against it with my first job on leaving Art School, at a printers. The two most qualified women in the place (she being one of them) were always told to make the tea when the reps came in. But I never encountered this sexism in television.”

What did her parents expect her to become? “They barely noticed me,” she says, grinning. “They were so busy putting bread on the table. Everything we got came from the Embassy catalogue.”

She seems to have taken personal fancy and turned it into professional opportunity? “Yes, that was the case when I started Gallus Besom,” she says of her 1989 TV production company. “We would say ‘Let’s make a show where we go up mountains every day or go skiing for two months. But there’s a different TV landscape now.”

Gray must have been awfie clever to come up with her production company idea? “Not at all,” she admits. “When I was doing the Media Show ( 1987) I met a gorgeous man called Andy Lipman who suggested I start a company. It was Andy who realised the potential in a Scottish company.” Gray adds, in more serious voice, “What kept us alive was the potential to detail, sitting up all night until seven am the next morning editing a programme.”

How could she do this and bring up three children (now married to director/producer Hamish Barbour.) “Two words; Really Badly,” she says, laughing. “When I had the children I had to give up presenting. I made the deal with Hamish I would be around and thankfully his career as a director was going gangbusters.”

She adds, in poignant voice: “The most flattering thing I ever heard was when I eavesdropped on my son once. He said to pals; ‘Well, my mum has never worked’, and I thought this was brilliant. He assumed this because I was at the school gates every day.”

Between the school runs, Gray wrote prodigiously, newspaper columns, best-selling novels (she achieved huge acclaim from Stephen King). Her production company success soared, as Ideal World merged with Wark Clements and new company IWC sold on to RDF in an “estimated £12m deal”. How did having huge money sit with the Embassy catalogue upbringing?

“I didn’t feel like the Kardashians and I had a lot of commitments at the time. And as you’ll know, there was my daughter (who suffered brain damage as a result of a drowning accident). But I’d also say the business success didn’t happen overnight. It was thirty years of sleepless nights, of nearly going to the wall.”

There’s little doubt she appreciates what she has. “We’re not bobbing around in a dinghy trying to reach shores to stay alive,” she says in dark voice. “If you don’t appreciate what we have in Scotland you must be off your f*****’ head.”

What of the reported fall out with Wark-Clements, (when it was claimed Alan Clements hacked into their company files on moving to STV?) “It (the schism) was made up by the press,” she says, dismissively. “I saw Kirsty not so long ago. And while we were never huge mates, I don’t have any problems with them at all.”

Was she surprised at the success of the likes of her Munro shows? “Yes, still,” she says, the laughter returning to her voice. “Every single taxi driver since says to me ‘Are you no’ up the hills’, tempting me to say, ‘Yes, I am. What you see here is just a f*****’ illusion.’”

Making the Broons cartoon must have been a thrill.? “Oh, yes, it was so exciting,” she squeals with delight. “But one of my regrets is that my dad didn’t live long enough to see it.” She adds, grinning. “It must have been a dark period in the Broon’s history when they decided to featured D-List Scottish celebrities, but let’s just keep that bit quiet.”

Does she always cope well with the attention of the public eye? “I’ve been on TV since I was 24 and recognised for most of my life, and had torrents of abuse. (15,000 followers on social media.) I once called U2 ‘British’ by mistake and was sent a card with used condoms used as the writing stapled on, telling me off. I just laughed.”

Muriel Gray’s still has a voice. Right now, she worries why the media has become so anodyne. She admits she’s unsure of Jeremy Corbyn, and really should declare his position of Jews. She says she’s become more left wing as she’s aged. And her TV days are over. “I couldn’t present TV now, at the age of 58. It’s a young person’s medium. Older women have the right to do it, but I struggle to understand why they would want to.”

With all her success, the writing, the TV ideas, the awards, and especially making the Broons, what’s her greatest achievement? For once, her response doesn’t feature a laugh. “Getting my daughter to the age of 21 after she almost died when she was two,” she says in soft voice.

This theme of how people deal with challenges is reflected in her new play, The Barrier, which features two spectators at the finish of a marathon race, Julie and Pat, who are there for very different reasons. Given her writing experience, her very dramatic and funny voice, it should pack Oran Mor.

“I hope so,” she says. “But I’m terrified audiences will sit looking at their watches. You see, I’m so lazy and hopeless. The only talent I have is I hang around with friends who are amazing. Basically, I’m crap.”

Not at a bit of it. The Face To Face panel asks for Ideal Dinner Guests. Mine would have to include the very entertaining, and funny, Muriel Gray.

• Behind The Barrier, Oran Mor, Glasgow, until Saturday.