And so, after nine years of A Scare at Bedtime, Podge and Rodge are mixing it with mortals. Last Monday, Senator David Norris was on their first show at the same time as he was on Questions & Answers. It's debatable which show will have boosted the politician's popularity more . . . but the prospect of other sober-suited public representatives surrendering themselves to the Brothers Grim in the interest of capturing the trendy vote is a delicious one.

See, as merciless bastards go, Podge and Rodge are premier league. For years, they have railed against the gobsheens in Montrose who, they allege, spend most of the licence fee on "booze, and the restoration fund for Marty Whelan's hair". Now, they've been given a portion of that funding to wreak a more risky type of havoc on real egos.

There's more than Podge and Rodge who will regard it as money well spent.

They were born 54 years ago in Ballydung, first Padraig Judas and then, two minutes later, Rodraig Spartacus. Their early years are shrouded in secrecy, not least because of the history of mental illness that afflicted their family . . . as well as their mother's terrible disappointment.

By the age of six, though, they were no longer allowed to leave the asylum and their formal education was at an end.

Their voluntary tutor for the next few years was a psychiatric nurse whom they called "Granny" and who eventually went insane. Podge, by then a teenager, continued to educate himself through reading;

Rodge, also a teenager, plunged himself with equal enthusiasm into masturbation.

When they weren't at the books/mickey, the boys have described those young years as a time of "pickpocketing, taxidermy, pyromania and thieving from dead people".

They inherited Ballydung Manor when they came of age and were demobbed by the psychiatric services. They furnished the rambling old house in the same way that they have acquired all their clothes and worldly goods since . . . "by waiting till some fella in the town is dead, then going round and making his widow an offer".

Their lack of any formal education was one of the hurdles that prevented them from embarking on any sort of worthwhile career, so instead, the brothers set up an illegal bicycle repairs service . . . a distraction that allowed Rodge to amass an impressive collection of ladies' bicycle saddles.

An avid collector, he also boasts one of the finest collections of monkeys in Ballydung, with 160 species of primates in his attic. He calls them his children.

Although unwholesomely close, the brothers' relationship is not without its difficulties and psychotic episodes.

Podge, ambitious by nature, believes that Rodge has frustrated all his dreams and held him back all his life. He is fundamentally embarrassed by the brother, who he deliberately deprived of education in order to control him. For his part, Rodge is a hopeless romantic who never gives up hope of finding the right woman and escaping his brother's malevolent shadow. In spite of the fact that Podge will go to extraordinary and unsanitary lengths to ensure that never happens, his older brother remains Rodge's hero.

They fell into broadcasting by accident. They are distant relatives of Zig and Zag, the cuddly aliens who revolutionised Irish children's television in the 1980s. When Podge began visiting his cousins on The Den it scared the bejaysus out of small children and inspired Mick O'Hara and Ciaran Morrison . . . an equally unhealthy coupling of former art students with an eye and a hand for puppetry . . . to follow their vile creation back to Ballydung and dust off his brother.

They began spinning their scary stories nine years ago from the bedroom they share in Ballydung. It was, Podge says, "Mainly to fulfil RTE's commitment to public service broadcasting." The cautionary tales that they peddled by gaslight were, he says, 100% true . . . including the one where the lothario who cuckolded the cosmetic surgeon ended up with his penis transplanted to his forehead.

"They're spawned from actual incidents that happened mainly to people who know people we would know." Up until a few weeks ago, Rodge had no idea the brothers' nocturnal reflections were being shared with a grateful nation:

"I didn't even know we were being filmed for the last nine years. Does someone owe me money?"

As it turns out, Podge, the boss, has been keeping it in trust for him. When the funds are released, the younger man will most likely spend it on "art" films and recordings by his favourite country artists (current favourite: "Ballad Time by Tommy Drennan and The Monarchs . . . it's ancient but it still gives me the horn.") Podge is also a connoisseur of "art" films, as well as a keen marksman. He particularly enjoys shooting dolphins, which he processes to make the hair oil which gives him his well-groomed appearance.

But money . . . and the fame that their TV shows have brought them . . . means little to the bachelor brothers. "Money can't change misery, " says Podge. "It's just the way me and him are predisposed. And fame is a pain in the arse when you get recognised going into those 'artistic' shops up in Dublin, you know, the ones on Capel Street and the like."

Rodge, the optimistic one, has compromised by patronising the "Ann Summers Nearly New Outlet Shop in Mullingar". Podge, though, his glass half-empty and extremely grubby, is beyond hope. Ask about the future and his ambitions and his answer is refreshingly lucid: "To kill Rodge while he sleeps." Rodge's ambition, thankfully, is "to sleep with one eye open".

Podge and Rodge

Names: Padraig Judas O'Lepracy and Rodraig Spartacus O'Lepracy
Occupation: Illegal bicycle repair men and chat-show hosts
Born: 1951, Ballydung Education: Not in the literal sense Married: Not in the legal sense
In the news They have been given their own twiceweekly chat show by RTE