THIS may well have my old arithmetic teacher turning in his grave, but you often find that one plus one equals more than two.

That is frequently the case with double acts: the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. The thought was brought to mind on Sunday night at the Bafta Television Awards on BBC1, when Ant and Dec picked up two gongs (for the second year in a row).

Bless. I mean them no harm, but I doubt whether Anthony McPartlin or Declan Donnelly would be garnering all these accolades as individuals. They are likeable chaps, but affability alone isn't enough to propel a person to superstardom. I reckon their success is largely down to the chemistry they have as buddies; they exude an irresistible, infectious atmosphere of bonhomie.

It's often hard to imagine the constituent parts of a great double act making it on their own. Admittedly the wonderful Laurel and Hardy each had some success as individuals before being pitched together by Hal Roach, but once they were paired up, they never looked back; they even featured together on This Is Your Life, and Stan refused to perform at all after Ollie died.

You just can't contemplate Tom making it without Jerry, Waldorf sparking off anyone other than Stadler, or Torvill and Dean striking out alone. Bud Abbott wouldn't even be a footnote in Hollywood history without Lou Costello to berate, and Morecambe and Wise might as well have been soldered together.

As always though, there are exceptions that prove the rule, the prime example being the Two Ronnies. They were irresistible together, but Ronnie B was a joy in Porridge and Open All Hours, and Ronnie C had his own success as Mother Hen-pecked Timothy Lumsden in Sorry!

Glasgow was blessed with its own double act of all the talents in Francie and Josie, the two wide boys whose patter had us in stitches for more than 30 years ("Is your granny in?", "She's at Arbroath", "Ah'll come in and wait 'til she's feenished" is now the stuff of legend).

Josie (Rikki Fulton), of course, went on to personify our Hogmanays in Scotch and Wry, but Francie (Jack Milroy) was a fine performer in his own right; I have fond memories of seeing him as a song and dance man on a bill at Dundee's Whitehall Theatre in the early 1970s.

Judging by the strength of their friendship, it would appear that neither Ant nor Dec will ever have to worry about carrying a show without the help of the other. And that happy fact must be worth at least two cheers.