The world really misses George Michael. It misses his presence, his charisma, his wit, his song-writing talent, his amazing voice and his kindness, illustrated by the numerous stories of his astonishing generosity to charities and individuals in need that emerged only after his untimely death on Christmas Day in 2016.

One attribute that’s often overlooked, however, is his courage. It’s this that’s to the fore in the excellent, if often anger-inducing, two-part documentary George Michael: Outed (Channel 4, Monday; both episodes available on All 4).

In 1998, Michael — who was in a relationship with Kenny Goss, one of many invaluable contributors here — was arrested for “engaging in a lewd act” in a public toilet in Beverly Hills, California.

The arresting officer, an undercover cop called Marcelo Rodriguez, had lured the singer in a sting operation.

Michael pleaded no contest, was fined $810 and made to do 80 hours of community service: a minor sentence which reflected the minor nature of the offence.

Where Michael paid a higher price, however, was in the court of the media — or at least that part of the tabloid media in the US and, especially, the UK that preyed on celebrities’ indiscretions (and particularly secretly gay celebrities’ indiscretions) — with undisguised glee.

As a delightful human being called Kevin Smith of celebrity news agency Smash, which broke the story of Michael’s arrest, put it: “Our motto was ‘Your misfortune is our fortune’.”

For any other superstar, being outed as gay could, given the homophobic climate of the time, have spelled the end of their career. Brilliantly and bravely, Michael turned it to his advantage.

Just six months after his conviction, he released the song Outside, accompanied by a cheeky video that mocked his arrest.

Set in a toilet that transforms into a disco, it features sexy male and female dancers, two male cops kissing, and Michael himself in a patrol man’s uniform. Ultimately, the incident turned out to be a defining moment for gay liberation. But the first part of the documentary mainly concentrated on reminding viewers — or revealing to those too young to remember it — the hostile backdrop to Michael’s arrest and the circumstances which had persuaded him to remain in the closet.

Once Wham!, comprising Michael and Andrew Ridgeley, went stratospheric with their second single, Young Guns, they became teen idols. In an echo of early Beatlemania, their manager Simon Napier-Bell recalled hordes of squealing teenage girls gathered outside the entrance to his company’s office building, much like a previous generation had hung around Abbey Road hoping to glimpse John, Paul, Ringo and a different George. 

But Michael’s sexuality had always been obvious to those who met him, pre-stardom, in the gay nightclubs in London, at the time “the centre of the gay universe”, as Holly Johnson of Frankie Goes to Hollywood described it.

“I’m not being funny,” said a friend of Michael’s, DJ Fat Tony, affectionately, “but he was wearing espadrilles and three-quarter-length jeans. All the signs were there!”

Napier-Bell, himself gay, saw the bottom line: you market the image, not the person. It was the image that imprisoned Michael.

Michael’s cousin and close friend Andros Georgiou said: “George was a very private, amazing person, but 99pc of his life was public.” Georgiou wasn’t surprised when the 1pc also became public knowledge. “You can only dance with the devil so many times.”

This first episode was about more than just George Michael. Flipping between the 1980s and the 90s, it was also a scorching takedown of the rancid homophobia that infected the media, particularly at the height of the Aids crisis.

Much of the ammunition was provided by tabloid journos from the period, who not ironically recalled the so-called glory days of Fleet Street, when newsrooms were supposedly macho, homosexual-free zones.

One seasoned old hack disingenuously suggested papers like The Sun were just reflecting what their readers, who former editor Kelvin MacKenzie once described as “racists and homophobes”, were thinking.

Is it any wonder that George Michael kept his sexuality a secret for so many years?