Radio Times

A visitor to the UK who finds himself bored senseless in a hotel room on a weekday afternoon - and let's face it, it can happen - might well turn on the TV and be confronted by Richard Madeley and Judy Finnigan. He might well be unmoved by the strangely mismatched couple sitting awkwardly on a sofa. He may even, heaven forbid, think about changing channels.

But he won't have an inkling of the extraordinary affection that Richard and Judy inspire in British television viewers. The intro sequence to the current Channel 4 series shows a giant set of letters spelling out their names, hovering like some preposterous orange deity over a sunny landscape of Britain, its shadow falling on every dwelling as it sweeps the length of the country. And that’s pretty much how it is; the words "Richard and Judy" have become synonymous with daytime telly. If you're off sick, skiving, working from home or unemployed, they form an intrinsic part of your routine, along with other such pleasurable activities as getting up late and slobbing around in your underwear.

But how did they do it? How did this nervous, slightly scatty woman and her hilariously indiscreet buffoon of a husband manage to claim a place in our hearts? Why don't we mind when Judy fluffs her links? Why do we find ourselves chortling indulgently when Richard delivers a startlingly filthy sexual innuendo at five o'clock in the afternoon?

It's because they're normal. No media training course could ever have turned out a married couple this normal. While past stars of daytime television have ambitiously coveted the jobs of their evening counterparts, despite being slightly less slick, slightly less attractive and stuck on a slightly less expensive studio set, Richard and Judy have carved out their own particular, peculiar niche.

They bicker while famous guests come and go from the sofa opposite. "This is getting boring," Judy might say, halfway through one of Richard's anecdotes. "Didn't your dog die of a heart attack?" Richard might ask Judy, in a bizarre non sequitur.

Their interviews ramble on in a fantastically circuitous fashion, with conversational culs-de-sac somehow saved by Richard shoehorning in inappropriate, suggestive remarks, and Judy rolling her eyes in response. They are the perfect archetype of the embarrassing dad, and the mum fast running out of patience - and thus they've reconstructed a British living room so well, you half expect one of them to turn to camera and quietly ask you if you'd like a cup of tea.

Added to their previous two-hour ITV series, This Morning, they've spent way more time on our TV sets than most other people in the public eye. They're an institution: they've changed the reading habits of a nation with their Book Club, they're changing our drinking habits with their Wine Club and, if Richard gets his way, they'll probably go on to revolutionise our sexual habits, too. They'll certainly continue to keep opening their mouths before putting their brains in gear. They may not be great entertainers, but you know what? They're OUR not great entertainers. Bless them.