There’s always someone on the telly you feel is on every programme you watch.

Growing up, watching my TV and listening to the radio (or wireless as my nan called it – she was ahead of her time), for me, it was Eamonn Andrews.

I was too young to listen to his famed radio boxing commentaries, but do remember “What’s My Line?”. 

I often wondered, possessing the worst, illegible signature in the world, what the panel would have made of me?  Doctor would be the most courteous answer; psychopath, the more obvious. 

I noticed they never invited Lady Isobel Barnett to sign in – latterly, of course, her “line” was shoplifting. If they’d have let her have a go, she’d have probably have nicked the pen and drawing board.

Holding his red book for “This Is Your Life” was a must-see programme. Again, I often wonder who they’d have dragged out if I’d featured on it?  When he last presented it, in 1964, I’d have been seven, and therefore not have had much of a “life”. 

My guests would have been two nursery school teachers and the cleaners in my Balham block of flats – most of whom hated me and called me “Michael” – something I’d have found deeply distressing on live television.

“Crackerjack”, for my generation was another programme he was on.  I’d have never gone on that due to my allergic reaction to cabbages.