AT ONE time, I saw it as a dull television programme that my parents liked to watch.

Now I'm glued to the screen myself, gleefully anticipating the crushing blows dealt to people who believed they were sitting on a fortune but actually were not.

The Antiques Road Show is 25 years old and still pulls in millions of viewers, not only in Britain, but around the world.

And if most fans are like me, it's not the antiques that attract their attention, but the reactions of those who queue for hours hoping that the trinket or painting they have brought to be examined and valued will be their passport to a swift and early retirement.

Sometimes the item does command a vast sum and the owners are clearly surprised and thrilled, but at other times -- and these are the times we, the viewing public, love - an item clearly felt by the owner to be worth a fortune, will be worth peanuts.

The couple who sat expectantly with a smug self-satisfied look upon their faces will shrug their shoulders and try to put on a "couldn't care less" expression when you know that deep inside they are devastated.

The Antiques Roadshow is one of those programmes which shows people up for what they are - revelling in the downfall of others. Like neighbours who haven't spoken to you in months but on hearing that your house was burgled, race up and say: "Ooooh, I heard about what happened, was it REALLY terrible, did they take ABSOLUTELY everything?" Not that it doesn't make good television to see valuable items being discovered on the Antiques Roadshow or lost masterpieces unearthed. Of course, it's interesting to witness, particularly when it's a huge sum and people are genuinely shocked.

But I honestly don't believe that anyone would take along an item if they didn't have half a mind on making a mint.

I've got a few bits and pieces that I'd love to have valued. But I'd have to to be totally sure that I was on to a winner before putting my head on the block - watched by half the world.

I've got a painting I bought for £3 in a charity shop which I have been led to believe is quite valuable. I don't know exactly how much its worth but I like to daydream in six figure sums.

I certainly would not want to be brought down to earth with a bump by an expert dismissing it as a bad copy of an Athena print. What are antiques anyway? How old does the item have to be to qualify?

To my children, just about everything I own pre-dates dinosaurs. I reckon it won't be long before my LP collection qualifies. "They're big CDs, mum!" they marvelled when they first saw them.

And my mobile phone - the size of a house brick - is already embarrassingly historic.

I can just imagine the Hugh Scully of the future taking it carefully into his palm and feeling the weight. "A rare early model, very cumbersome, no street cred after around 1995, I reckon you're looking at around £10,000," he will say.

I think I'll hang on to these items until the roadshow celebrates its half century.

That leaves me plenty of time to practise my 'don't care' expression.