Day belongs to Des

Although I'm too young to have seen the early editions of ITV's very first game show, I can still remember Take Your Pick in its Sixties heyday.

Apart from offering viewers the chance to shout "open the box" at the screen, the show became famous for its Yes/No interlude, during which contestants had to fend off rapid questioning from host Michael Miles by saying "that is correct" or "I did not", while being scrutinised by Alec Dane, a bald midget who would bang a gong if an errant "yes" or "no" was uttered.

It was common knowledge that the frequently unsteady Mr Miles was a secret boozer, but nobody minded much until the day he declared that he was, in fact, an epileptic pretending to be a heavy drinker, when in reality we all knew that he was a drinker pretending to be an epileptic.

Televisually speaking, his end came when he missed his footing while exiting an aircraft, publicly slipped down the entire length of the steps, kissed the tarmac in a Papal but unconscious sort of way, and was promptly sacked. Yet he was not forgotten, and even after his death was announced, cruel children would taunt each other by asking: "Is Michael Miles dead?" "Yes." "Bong!"

Take Your Pick was revived during the 1990s with Des O'Connor, a host who interpreted the programme's title literally by picking gong-mistress Jodie Wilson as his long-term partner. The couple have recently revealed that a child is on the way, and although the father is so old that his sperms must have Zimmer frames, he was still full of vim and vigour as he presented ITV1's Today with Des and Mel yesterday lunchtime.

An unashamed copy of America's Regis and Kathy Lee format, the show is fuelled by an avuncular yet slightly sexually-charged chemistry between him and Melanie Sykes, although Des is far too sensible ever to go the way of that other famous telly-uncle, Frank Bough.

Frank, you may recall, fell from grace after news emerged of his three-in-a-bed romps with prostitutes, lesbian voyeurism, bondage, spanking, and cocaine snorting, whereas I'm reliably informed that the only white powder Des is addicted to is Horlicks.

Despite suffering from the same restrictions that afflict all daytime talk shows (low budgets and prewatershed vocabulary being the most severe), the programme somehow conjures up an atmosphere usually only associated with primetime broadcasting.

That's mostly due to Des's consummate (and inexplicably underrated) professionalism, but also to his ravishingly beautiful and highly intelligent co-host, and the result is an hour of television that regularly reassures jaded housewives everywhere that there's more to life than being unable to remove last night's curry from their husband's undercrackers (even at 40 degrees), or sending their credit card into meltdown by watching the shopping channels while sipping an early-afternoon sherry or 12.

Des even imparted a Letterman-like flavour to yesterday's proceedings, not just with his desk drumming, but also with regular features like the "funny place names" slot, which drew attention to such little-known US towns as Superior Bottom in West Virginia, or Bow Legs in Oklahoma.