So whatever happened to Anne Diamond and Nick Owen? They - and others like them - have long since disappeared down the back of the daytime television sofa, consigned to crumbs and oblivion, while Richard and Judy seem to go on forever.

And just when other people their age (well, Judy's age) are consulting their pension plans and dreaming of early retirement, Richard and Judy are now skipping off from ITV to Channel 4 for a reputed £3m. Not bad for a mid-life career change.

Ironically for superstars, their appeal has always been their everydayness. They always had that slightly puzzled, harassed air of the sort of people you bump into on parents' evening - the bickering couple just about to have a blazing row before talking to the maths master.

That's why we loved them - especially Judy. Despite spending ages having her hair and make up done before each show, Judy never quite had that glossy groomed perfection of other television women. Her hair would stray, her jacket would crumple. Buttons would strain and bulges show,

and when she was photographed on holiday revealing flabby arms and a Michelin-size spare tyre overflowing her bikini, our identification with her was complete.

Whatever their home life is like, they are a perfect television partnership.

She's a good interviewer but above all she's human. Great combination. What's more, she seemed interested in all the human life that passed across the screen - whether it was diet plans or celebrities or decorating secrets, she seemed genuinely fascinated by it all. Maybe she was just a brilliant journalist but she came over as Everywoman.

Vanessa Feltz (a Cambridge First) and Anne Diamond always sounded dangerously close to patronising when interviewing some of the weirder guests. Judy, on the other hand, seemed fascinated, as if the conversation would go on when the cameras had turned away. Enthusiasm is infectious. We caught it.

As for Richard, definitely a smoothy chops that one. Not as clever as he thought he was. Without his wife, he would have been another run of the mill regional reporter, hardly safe to be let out on his own, but he was the perfect foil for Judy.

When they've presented programmes separately they've been, frankly, boring - adequate and professional but absolutely nothing special. Their magic lies in their partnership. Not so much Richard Madeley and Judy Finnigan, but a distinct entity known as Richard and Judy.

As a married couple, they cannot be chopped and changed with other partners, not even in the studio. They are stuck with each other so we know they have to make it work. What's more, at the end of the day they have to go home together.

Judy needed Richard to show that, however mumsy she might be, she could still get and keep a good looking younger man. Richard needed Judy because she was better at the job than he was. She helped him out, kept him in line and stopped him getting above himself. In public too. Though she couldn't stop him doing his cringe-making Ali G impression - not for nothing was that voted the worst television moment of all time.

Every one of their appearances together was a little mini soap opera of their relationship as we waited to see what daft thing Richard would say next and how Judy would slap him down. Yet, like children watching their parents row, we know that it's going to be all right, because they love each other really.

There have been dramas - remember Richard's shoplifting charge all those years ago? And illness - Judy's hysterectomy and those cosy little bulletins on her recovery. Again, it made us all feel like part of the family. And couldn't you have just died for Judy when her halter neck fell down at the television awards, revealing her nice sensible bra underneath for all the world to see?

Years ago, I was a guest on This Morning. They sent a taxi from Liverpool for me at five in the morning. That day, Richard was on his own and he was lost without Judy. Even before he arrived, he had created an atmosphere of tension as people rushed round trying to pre-empt any problems. Richard was tetchy and petulant with crew and researchers. When the programme started he turned on the instant charm, but we guests weren't fooled. Maybe he was worried about Judy, ill at home. Maybe he was just being normal but either way none of us were impressed. "Cares more about getting his hair right," muttered one of the other guests, a high flying lawyer.

When the programme finished Richard vanished and didn't talk to guests. But as the utterly gorgeous Tom Conti had also been on the programme and stayed around chatting happily, frankly, we didn't miss Richard.

A year or so earlier I'd been on Kilroy - yes, he of the orange perma-tan -who kept squeezing my knee while talking to me. To this day, I don't know why I didn't land him one, live on air. And I always thought that if it hadn't been for Judy, Richard could have easily ended up like Kilroy.

Instead their programme rolled out a bit like one of those old fashioned women's magazines that have just got up to date. Other day time programmes delighted in guests that were so weird they should have been certified. If they couldn't find them, they made them up. Oprah and Jerry Springer makes even being in the audience dangerous as guests get more sordid and passions are aroused and fights break out.

But back with Richard and Judy you knew you were safe. Even when they moved from Liverpool to London, they didn't go all southern and superior on us. There were racy bits, mind. There was the couple who tested Viagara, the women who tested sex stimulants and then, this year on Valentine's Day, they had the gay wedding live on air. Definitely a touch of tackiness too far and a sign that after 13 years the time has come for a change.

Interesting to see how they will translate onto Channel 4, which doesn't seem their natural spiritual home.

Richard and Judy's greatest triumph was their ordinariness. But in television, nothing is ever what it seems. They have spent 13 years working extremely hard to seem that ordinary, which, when you come to think of it, is an extraordinary achievement.