In a world where even the rich and famous are anguished, Sir Terry is a refreshing change. On Saturdays he brings his wife Helen breakfast in bed and on Sundays she brings him breakfast in bed, and he has a lie in. In Britain he's a national treasure, first class. The news that he is the only performer to receive a fee for his work on the BBC's Children In Need charity appeal has not ruffled him unduly. "I never asked for a fee and would happily do it for nothing, " he said.

The BBC was much more fulsome in its response to media reports. A spokesman said, "If it wasn't for Sir Terry, Children In Need wouldn't be where it is today." The rate paid for Wogan works out at Euro1,900 per hour of the marathon broadcast, adding up to about Euro13,000 - an amount which Wogan might refer to as a paltry sum, considering that he is paid Euro1.1m for his BBC Radio Two morning show, Euro220,000 for presenting the BBC broadcast of the Eurovision, and has a series on UKGold.

And that's just his broadcasting. In the UK he is currently providing the voiceover for the Tesco supermarket chain, having voiced many other advertisements in the past, and he published the second volume of his autobiography last year, after receiving a reported Euro1.3m advance. The BBC is said to have turned a blind eye to his work on commercials because he is so valuable to the organisation; his morning show has eight million listeners, including the Queen.

Sir Terry has been presenting Children In Need since it started in 1980. During that time he has demonstrated his breakdancing abilities, aided by computer-generated graphics (Sir Terry claimed that they had transplanted someone else's head on to his body) and once auctioned a pair of his underpants - which eventually went for Euro11,000.

His personal worth is estimated at about Euro25m, although he is very quiet about his money. His salary for his morning show was discovered only last year, under the British Freedom of Information Act. At the time, Sir Terry said: "The amount said was true and I don't give a monkey's about people knowing it. Nor do I feel guilty. If you do the maths, factoring in my eight million listeners, I cost the BBC about 2p a fortnight. I think I'm cheap at the price."

The Daily Mirror ran a story happily entitled "Terry Wogan's Wonga" but there wasn't anything very dramatic to report. He owns a house in Gascony and lives in a mansion near Ascot. The last time he was within shouting distance of a financial controversy was in the '80s, when it emerged that he had an interest in the company which provided cars to ferry guests to his television chatshow. But even the British newspapers couldn't make much out of that one, as the tender had been won fair and square.

Two years ago Sir Terry passed a picket at the BBC, giving his colleagues a cheery wave as he went into work. They were protesting about job cuts at the organisation. Sir Terry explained that he was a contract worker and therefore had to turn up for work. No one seemed to bear him any ill will.

It is difficult now to describe what a big star Wogan was in the '80s, with the first television chatshow to go out three times a week. It was on this show that we saw a plastered George Best, a monosyllabic Anne Bancroft and a demented David Icke, dressed in a sky-blue tracksuit and claiming to be the Son of God.

He had already presented Blankety Blank, surely the most stupid gameshow ever invented, with enormous success, battling to control comedians like Kenny Everett, although Wogan later said that Freddie Star was the most frightening panellist he ever had to contend with.

He had left RT� radio when his gameshow there, Jackpot, was axed. He was one of the first DJs on the BBC's new station, Radio One, in 1967. He broadcast on the BBC all through the 1970s, when the IRA bombing campaigns both in Britain and Ireland were at their height. He subsequently said that coming back out of the BBC newsroom on the day of the Birmingham bombings was the worst experience of his professional career. He had never erased his Irish accent and always maintained his Irish identity. Even on the day he received his knighthood, in December 2005, he said: "As an Irishman I am doubly honoured to receive this not in the country of my birth." This was an uncharacteristically clumsy statement, although you can see what he meant. Wogan's Jesuit education has left him with a love of precise language.

In 1992 his television chatshow was axed to make way for the ill-fated soap opera Eldorado. In 1993 Wogan returned to radio, where his listenership was just three million - now of course it is almost three times that.

He still plays golf with Michael Parkinson. But his finest golfing moment came when he hit a 33-yard putt at Gleneagles during a pro-celebrity match. The golf commentator Peter Alliss called it "the most remarkable shot I've ever seen in my life".

Every morning he gets up at 5.45, with no thoughts of retirement. "I get up with a light heart, " he says. "I need somebody to tell me when it's time to go."

C.V.

Name: Michael Terence Wogan Born: 3 August 1938, Limerick Married: Helen Joyce, 1965; three children, two grandchildren Honours: knighted December 2005;

honorary doctorate from Limerick University; lifetime achievement from the taoiseach last month; gold Blue Peter badge In the news because: he's paid to work on Children In Need