''Certainly, in Britain, we are addicted to queuing,'' he said, tongue-in-cheek.

In an entertaining talk in Queanbeyan about behind-the-scenes of the British institution, Dr Atterbury, who has been with the show since 1990, said people would queue for five hours to get their item appraised, only for them, more often than not, to receive bad news, broken as discreetly as possible.

''It's usually, 'No, granny didn't leave you a great treasure. Never mind. Life goes on'. But it's not our job to say, 'No, it's rubbish, madam. Go away. Next please','' he said, adding he always tried to give as much information as possible about the item, valuable or not.

Dr Atterbury, who was invited to speak by an emerging local branch of the Australian Decorative and Fine Arts Societies, said there had been some amazing finds since the show went to air in 1979.

The record find has been a £400,000 ($720,000) Van Dyck portrait (''It's always paintings and jewellery that attract the big money'') while he personally had appraised a William Burges vessel thought to have been lost for 100 years brought in by a woman who only knew her father had bought it in the 1940s. It was valued at £50,000. Another time, a man was almost denied entry to the show, because he had dreadlocks, was badly dressed and carrying his items in a rubbish bag. Its contents, his father's silver collection, turned out to be worth about £200,000.

Dr Atterbury was asked if any of the appraisers had ever broken an item and said, no matter where he was, he was guaranteed to be asked that question. He said there had been the rare disaster by an appraiser but more often than not it was the owner who dropped or damaged their possession.

''In principle, we don't break things, but you do,'' he said.

The show wasn't rehearsed, the conversations were held in true time. Larger items such as furniture were scouted ahead of time but the owner never informed of their worth beforehand to keep the surprise fresh.

''It's really making television by the seat of your pants. It could go horribly wrong. Touch wood, in 35 years, it hasn't,'' he said

And the issue that always raised the ire of viewers? An appraiser with dirty fingernails, even if it was because they'd being handling dusty items all day.

Dr Atterbury said Antiques Roadshow, which regularly drew audiences up to 6 million in Britain, would continue as long as there was an audience. Its global popularity was also apparent, with producers in talks to film some episodes in New Zealand.

He said after appraising for up to 10 hours straight, by the end of an episode he ''never wanted to speak to anyone again''.

But, it was like childbirth, and he soon forgot the pain and only remembered the pleasure.

''By the next morning, I'm thinking, 'When is the next Roadshow? Where are we going next?'. It's really addictive.''