“He’s got a Leo’s mane, Debs,” adds Lorne, just to banish any lingering doubts Mr Dickinson’s skin is a very scary orange, by the way I don’t know why that is. Maybe he bathes in Tango.David and I take our coffees into the living-room, which is, wow! Before telly came along six-odd years ago, Dickinson was a successful antiques dealer with, at various times, shops and galleries in the Manchester area. “The interesting thing in this business is that anyone can do it, but some people have a flair for it, ‘the eye’ that distinguishes their choice from a competitor’s.” He’s a furniture man, mostly. “I go from the 17th century right up to the 20th; William and Mary to art deco I’m not a contemporary art man I can’t see anything in whatsisname… the artist who cuts cows up.” Damien Hirst? “Just not my thing.”It’s wonderfully OTT in here, full of the most glorious stuff – oil paintings, a little boat made from Chinese silver, a smiling gnome sucking on a pipe (“Not an ordinary gnome Austrian Terracotta. Eighteenth century”), a magnificent, intricately carved bookcase, a not so magnificent, not so intricately carved Through the Keyhole souvenir key (Not Austrian Not terracotta Not 18th century Total junk Embarrassing to most Cheap as chips One fiercely proud owner, though.

C-list and proud!)OK, I say, the house is on fire, and you can rescue only one item. What’s it to be? He says it would be the little copy of the Liberty Bell given to him by his much-adored granny just before she died “The bell’s not worth anything,” he says. “It’s just got sentimental value.” He adds: “I can choose something else if you like.” I think it would be safe to say that, in this new medium in which he so ecstatically finds himself, David Dickinson is very willing to oblige.Actually, I tell him, it’s refreshing to meet someone who adores the fame they have “I love it,” he exclaims “I love it to death. I am so delighted and so humbled because I’ve got people walking up to me in the street from all walks of life and they are very nice. Lads from building-sites run up to me for a quick word, or ask me to speak to the missus on their mobile phones I’m called The Duke, you know. They say: can you sign this as ‘The Duke’? I get letters from all manner of people Youngsters, teenagers I’ve got a huge student following Housewives, grannies. I got a lovely letter from a granny, didn’t I, Lorne? She’s a lady in her eighties and she said, ‘You’re all right, you are.

You’re not a bad bit of stuff.’” I bet you wouldn’t mind if Hello! gatecrashed your wedding, I say. He says: “I’d slip them in through the side door myself!”I wonder if he’s bothered by all the.. ahem… teasing? All those jokes about having been dipped in tea and everything “Not at all. Terry Wogan calls me the secret lovechild of Peter Stringfellow and a mahogany hatstand Jonathan Ross calls me the Orange One It’s just a fun send-up It’s not like anyone is being really horrible to me. And I’ve realised, in a commercial sense, that all the things they say in this lighthearted way actually promote me.” Do you use a sunbed? Bathe in Tango? “No! No! Not at all My grandfather was Armenian, so I’m olive-skinned anyway. I do love the sun, though, don’t I, Lorne? Whenever we go on holiday, she wheels me out in the morning and…”"… he just sits there all day, Debs, with his sun lotion on,” continues Lorne.