Were the 1980s really the golden age of television?

This prime time knees-up which Bowen co-hosted with its mascot, a portly, glove-wearing bull in a stripy, short-sleeved shirt, was watched by millions of us.

The theme tune, a honky tonk piano and ramshackle ragtime arrangement, invoked the ambience of a convivial boozer. By the time Tony Green interjected with “It’s a Bullseye!”, you knew you were in for a televisual treat.

Bullseye was an unsophisticated mix of darts, rudimentary questions and shoddy household goods.

We loved watching overweight labourers hurling darts at a board the size of Ballymena.

We loved seeing their crestfallen expressions when Bowen declared ‘this is what you would have won’...usually a speedboat or a Talbot Samba with ‘economic motoring and electronic ignition’.

Instead of luxury goods, working-class contestants Julie and Gary would head back to Milton Keynes with a carriage clock, 14-inch portable telly, matching gold pens and an electronic knitting machine.

A look back at any episode of Bullseye is always a wonderful window into a slower, more gentle world of light entertainment.

It was often very funny, not least when the prizes were truly dreadful, which they generally were.

There was a glorious moment when audience members passed a packed lunch around behind Bowen before he introduced George Best as a celebrity contestant as well as Jocky Wilson throwing the arrows with a Benson and Hedges in hand.

Let’s face it, everybody loved a ‘bit of Bully’ and its super, smashing, great, host.

There were so many terrific gameshows during the 1980s, like the classic charades show, Give Us a Clue, with the dandyish Lionel Blair and co-hosts Liza Goddard, then Una Stubbs.

And who could forget Blankety Blank, with it’s catchy theme tune and host, the unassuming and yet sardonically wonderful Les Dawson?

Most famous was the consolation prize— the (unusable) Blankety Blank chequebook and pen, which Dawson would often call “The Blankety Blank chequepen and book!”

And The Price is Right, where ferociously competitive housewives guessed the price of bags of currants and tins of Spaghetti Hoops, as host Leslie Crowther beseeched audience members to ‘Come on Down’.

Then there was 3-2-1. hosted by Ted Rogers, he of dextrous hand gestures, and, of course, the booby prize, Dusty Bin.

Family Fortunes, was surely at its best, when it was fronted by the tangerine titan of quiz show hosts, Bob Monkhouse. Likewise, The Generation Game, when it was fronted by Larry Grayson, with his high-campery and ‘Shut that door’ catchphrase.

Of course, it wasn’t just gameshows that defined the decade. Thursdays were a non-negotiable night-in for Top of the Pops - and always the talk of the playground the next day.

Saturday’s tea-time treat was undoubtedly The A-team and the reason Northern Irish kids started calling each other ‘sucker’ and fool’.

The US also brought us brilliant detective shows like Cagney and Lacey. Lacey (the dark-haired, hard done-by one) and Cagney, all soft-focus, lip gloss and cowl-necked sweaters.

Hart to Hart, starring the suave Robert Wagner and Stephanie Powers, the golden couple who cracked case after case, was also essential viewing.

Girls wanted to be Stephanie, with her hair, a flicky bouffant, her beautiful home with 5ft high shagpile, her dog, Freeway, her gravel-voiced butler Max, who introduced the show ‘This is my boss – Jonathan Hart, a self-made millionaire. He’s quite a guy. This is Mrs. H – she’s gorgeous. What a terrific lady. By the way, my name is Max. I take care of them, which ain’t easy, ‘cause their hobby is murder.’

Meanwhile, over in Dallas... there was Dallas - just an everyday tale of oil millionaires - twitchy Sue Ellen with her drink problem, the Machiavellian JR and a seemingly endless cycle of chicanery.

And Dynasty, another 80s oil-family soap with the warring Carringtons and Colbys and shoulder pads you could land a jumbo jet on.

Children’s TV, too, was a joy during the 1980s.

Grange Hill was an institution, a programme kids rushed home from school to watch.

It tackled subjects such as crushes, bullies and drugs...who can forget Zammo’s slide into heroin addiction and overdose on the changing room floor?

The storyline led to a Top 10 single, Just Say No and the cast were invited to the White House.

We were enraptured by the antics of Tucker, Gripper and Pogo and could relate to irascible teacher, Mr Bronson, and games teacher ‘Bullet’ Baxter.

Crackerjack, was, well, another cracker.

The programme was introduced every week with the phrase ‘It’s Friday, its five to five.....it’s Crackerjack!’.

The show was hosted by Stu Francis, who was so excited he could ‘crush a grape’.

He could also jump off a doll’s house, and, if pushed, he could wrestle an action man.

The Krankies (the world’s scariest husband and wife team) and Basil Brush, the mischievous upper-class fox, often made an appearance.

It’s highlight was the Double or Drop game with contestants given prizes if they answer questions right and cabbages if they got them wrong. And who can forget the delight on the children’s faces when they got a much-coveted Crackerjack pencil? Kids were easily pleased back then.

The second half of the 1980s was a time of recession, of Thatcher, of mass unemployment and intense class war.

A plethora of comedy shows provided light relief during those dark days. Shows like Are You Being Served, Blackadder and Only Fools and Horses.

And so, as we kicked back on a Saturday evening to watch the antics of Peckham’s finest wide boy, we knew that for half an hour, anyway, everything would be ‘lovely jubbly’....possibly, even, ‘cushti’.