Billy Weir

There is a quite frankly terrifying fact that keeps popping up on my Facebook at the moment - in six years time the Eighties will have been 50 years ago.

There is a quite frankly terrifying fact that keeps popping up on my Facebook at the moment - in six years time the Eighties will have been 50 years ago.

Sometimes words can be a little confusing and so when a voice I thought I recognised told us ‘it’s from London, it’s Saturday night, it’s ITV and it’s time for…’ I was puzzled.

Things get off to a pleasant start, a cooing dad talking lovingly to the camera about his new-born son. Obviously this being the upper classes and being several decades ago, like a pigeon spotting an oncoming bus, the cooing is done at a safe distance away.

We join Joe Cole at a train station, with a helpful caption telling us that Glasgow to London is 410 miles away and takes 316 minutes.

Iam not a man known for alarming outbursts of uncontrolled emotion at the drop of a hat.

You’ve got to hand it to the BBC — they’re nothing if not careful with our licence fee money. It would have been very easy when they’d had to dish out all that dosh to compensate Freddie Flintoff after that crash, to call it quits.

Monday evenings are a bit of testing time as it is and we’re not even talking about Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen’s House of the Year.

It’s official: Alison Hammond is the human equivalent of dust, for she’s never off the telly.

Take That or East 17? Neither, if I’m being brutally honest, but once upon a time, this was a question that dominated life.