Oh, look, it's him off...

WE were to meet at Borders caf in Davygate, York. Incredibly, I couldn't spot Richard Whiteley at first. How was this possible? His is one of the most frequent faces on the box: he has made a record-breaking 10,000 appearances on British telly.

He was the first face on Channel 4 and was once dubbed 'twice nightly Whiteley' to reflect his double role as Calendar anchorman and Countdown host. The Guardian even calculated that "the average British television viewer spends nearly ten minutes a week watching Richard Whiteley".

So how could I miss him? I'll tell you how: the jacket. He was wearing a discreet brown number with tasteful tie. This from a man whose telly wardrobe contravenes half a dozen environmental health regulations.

While I was looking for a belisha beacon, Richard had come as the man in beige. There was little chance of him being "himoffed" that day.

To explain: "himoff" is a verb the TV host is trying to introduce into the English language. It is defined as the act of recognising a usually minor celebrity in public, as in: "ooh look, it's himoff telly!" And so his TV memoir is called - with the sort of pain-inducing pun Countdown viewers will relish - Himoff! The Memoirs Of A TV Matine Idle.

It is written very much in the author's voice, that genial, somewhat bumbling, self-deprecating character we all think we know. There is little in the way of revelations about Whiteley the man, save for such unessential details as the fact that, at airports, he doesn't like having "to go to the loo to do big jobs".

Instead, the bulk of the book is devoted to his TV experiences, including his famous meeting with a ferret with a taste for fingers.

"The only person I dish the dirt on - the only person that comes out of this badly - is me," Richard said, taking a break from the chocolate flapjack that is his breakfast. "Everyone else I am terribly nice about."

But there may be a more salacious sequel, if the hints at the end of Himoff! are to be believed. So will it be X-rated? "I wouldn't go as far as X. I'd say C. I don't go up to X with my sex life."

A large part of Richard's charm comes from his refusal to take himself too seriously. This is fortunate as he is regularly lampooned by comedians and critics.

"I think it's done affectionately. That stuff on the back of the book makes me laugh," he said.

(These 'tributes' includes Victor Lewis-Smith's suggestion that he has "daytime TV written all over him").

"If it's just snide you get a bit upset at the time."

And he has more admirers than detractors. Is it true, I ask him, that the Queen is his biggest fan? "I wouldn't say she's one of my biggest fans - how could I possibly know?"

He shifts in his seat. "This has got to be put tactfully... I met Princess Margaret at Castle Howard. She was introduced to me, Richard Whiteley, from Countdown.

"She said, 'Countdown?' They always repeat the question, it gives you a chance to join in.

"I said it's an afternoon show. 'One is far too busy to watch television in the afternoon', she said. I said, 'of course you are, ma'am'.

"Then she said, 'I do believe my sister watches it after the racing'. The Channel Four racing, see?"

Within moments, he had worked out who the princess's sister was, and was suitably humbled.

"I later had this confirmed. I knew someone who worked at the Palace. They said they would talk to the footman. About four months later, they rang me back. The footman had taken the Queen's tea in. The TV was on and Countdown was on."

While the rest of the country discovered Richard on Channel 4 18 years ago, we in Yorkshire had known him long before that as the face of Yorkshire TV's Calendar. "It was a great privilege for a Yorkshireman to be an anchorman on his own programme in his own county," he said in a rare moment of seriousness.

During his stint on the show, he narrowly escaped injury or worse in the Brighton bomb. An argument over whether to have another glass of champagne stopped him from walking into the worst effects of the blast at the Grand Hotel.

He was also ordering a drink at the Adelphi Hotel in Liverpool when an IRA bomb scare forced the postponement of the Grand National. Is he always to be found at the bar at times of crisis?

Richard laughs. "TV hosts live on champagne! My refusing a glass of champagne probably saved me from injury in Brighton, I won't put it any worse than that.

"By refusing it, it stopped me going to the door. It's the most propitious refusal I've ever made."

Richard then excuses himself because his public awaits downstairs in Borders. As I leave, he is beginning his Princess Margaret story with the words: "I was just telling him upstairs..."

So I'm not a himoff. I'm a himupstairs.

Himoff! The Memoirs Of A TV Matine Idle by Richard Whiteley is published by Orion, £16.99)