The One O'Clock Show proved essential lunchtime viewing in the early 1960s, until time was finally called.

UG and Og were positively Neanderthal, a bit like Bill and Ben the Flowerpot Men - on television at much the same time - in that no-one could remember which was which.

Dressed in skins and carrying clubs, the two cavemen appeared daily on the One O'clock Show in the early days of Tyne Tees Television.

"Wotcha makin'?" one might inquire.

"Makin' money," replied the other, his voice every bit as gormless.

However prehistoric it might sound, it was positively hilarious - so far off the wall as to be in danger of falling onto unwary passers-by. The North-East rocked with the cavemen.

One was the late Terry O'Neill, an Irishman who fronted the show; the other was Austin Steele, who died, aged 73, last week.

"Ug and Og was bloody funny," recalls George Romaines, the One O'clock Show's singer. "I wish I could tell you what it was all about, but if Channel 4 had been around in the early 60s, they'd have snapped it up."

George himself once appeared as an ancient Briton on the show, but forgot to remove his wrist watch. An alert viewer wrote to the listings magazine and received two guineas for the week's best letter.

Austin Steele was a sea captain's son from Jarrow, studied at Ushaw College near Durham but instead of becoming a Roman Catholic priest - "we never really asked about that," says George - became a scriptwriter instead.

He joined the One O'Clock Show at the outset in January 1959 - five live shows each week, broadcast to the biggest regional lunchtime audience in Britain.

"The programme caused a domestic revolution," writes Geoff Phillips in Memories of Tyne Tees Television. "Housewives changed their routine so that they could have free time to watch the show."

George Romaines had been a maintenance electrician at Shildon wagon works - "twopence ha'penny electrician, twopence ha'penny singer," he insists - Terry O'Neill was direct from the Cosy Nook theatre in Newquay, Jack Haig had been a big enough name but had become deaf and was working as a postman on £10 a week.

Tyne Tees programme controller Bill Lyon-Shaw bought him a hearing aid. For "Wacky" Jackie Haig, a new career was beginning.

"The standard those guys maintained was incredible, so high compared to modern television," says Mr Lyon-Shaw, now 92. "I wish I had appreciated those boys and girls more at the time, instead of always giving them a good lashing."

Still driving, still dancing, Bill reckons that Austin Steele - like the rest of the cast - was a true professional.

"It's very difficult to find a professional on television these days. They're all stars after two or three years in the entertainment industry and when they've stopped being stars, they appear on I'm A Celebrity."

Austin had worked in repertory, wrote a successful play called Friends and Neighbours, also appeared on Comedy Bandbox and wrote for programmes like The Two Ronnies, All Gas and Gaiters and It's Tarbuck.

He emigrated to Australia, worked for Tasmanian television, somehow gained a music doctorate - "He wouldn't have known an e-flat if he'd sat on it," says George, affectionately - and helped manage the Australian Youth Orchestra.

The One O'Clock Show ran for 1,098 editions. George Romaines missed two; Austin not many more. It also featured Ernest Bates, one of television's first chefs, who later ran the Cock of the North hotel, near Durham.

Terry O'Neill had dressing room No 1 - "He was the star," says George - while George, Austin and Jack Haig shared No 2.

"Austin was really just the feed but he was a great performer and a really nice guy," says George over a festive beer, the conversation overflowing into everything from the world cocktail shaking champion to wacky baccy on Glamour Trail.

Austin Steele, the rave from the cave, had been ill for some time - time called on yet another member of the One O'Clock Show crew.

STARS of the future, perhaps, the Spot On Young People's Musical Theatre - of which the column somewhat surprisingly finds itself president - is looking for its first members, between 16 and 30-years-old. Based in south-west Durham, the company wants stage struck young folk interested in any aspect of the theatre, both sides of the curtain.

"We want to give talent a chance to be seen and heard," says artistic director Vivien Slack. "We have a number of people waiting to pass on their experience and knowledge to the next generation."

Rehearsals start in January for a "Musicality showcase", a major production of Grease likely to follow. Vivien's on (01388) 816305, musical director David on (01388) 762005.

STILL among the stars, Prof Richard Stephenson of Durham University will be talking about the Star of Bethlehem at Durham Historical Association's Christmas beano on December 20. (St John's College 7pm; £8 including buffet.)

He hasn't been available. The theory, apparently, is connected to an eclipse of the sun in that part of the world.

It's been a good year for Prof Stephenson. In February, the asteroid hitherto known as (10979) 4171 T-2 was renamed Fristephenson in his honour.

He is unlikely to be able to go there on his holidays, however. It's a three mile wide lump of rock between Mars and Jupiter, about 230 million miles from the sun and around 100 degrees below zero.

l Speaking of the Historical Association, those highly diverting volumes of Durham Biographies we mentioned last week are available from Prof Gordon Batho at the Miners' Hall, Red Hill, Durham DH1 4BB - £10 a book, £20 for all four, plus postage of £1 or £2 50.

MURDER or suicide? Last week's column recalled Sunderland born music hall entertainer Mark Sheridan, found dead with gunshot wounds after being mauled by the critical lions at Glasgow Coliseum.

Tom Purvis, whom Great Goodness preserve, now sends a cassette of what might be called Mark Sheridan's Greatest Hits 1905-25, including I Do Like To Be Beside the Seaside, his all-time number one.

Also reprised are immortal ditties like Who Were You With Last Night, The Wibbly Wobbly Song and What's On the Menu Tonight, Winston Churchill.

Tom was sent it by a Canadian student researching Sheridan's death, which she didn't consider accidental. "Some of the songs scream 'Murder', too," he says.

Tom also points out that while Sunderland FC (qv) enter the arena to Prokoviev's March of the Nights, the visitors are serenaded by I Do Like To Be Beside the Seaside. "As the away side are guaranteed three points," he adds, "it's really hardly surprising."

....and finally, Tuesday's report of the forthcoming civil partnership ceremony between Darlington vicar Chris Wardale and his long-time companion Malcolm Macourt was accompanied by an extract from the parish magazine. "Malcolm and I are having a special event...."

The magazine has less formal notes, too, particularly the "terrible" jokes, bravely said to have come from the vicarage. There are a couple of definitions - "Dijon vu: the same mustard as before"; "Shotgun wedding: a case of wife or death" - but the best is the one about retail therapy.

Once you've seen one shopping centre, you've seen a mall.