But there's bad news for the girls too.  Although Ronnie - as all the cast call him - is unmarried, he has resolutely put up an iron curtain against the flood of propositions and offers that pour in from his lady fans.

 

He's a bit of a loner, actually.  Like bachelor-girl Noele Gordon he has come to terms with the fact that Crossroads had to take over its actors' lives - otherwise nothing works.

 

He lives in South London at weekends and in a small flat in Birmingham from Mondays to Fridays and he admits that even his so-called free time is almost wholly swallowed up learning and mulling over his Crossroads role.

 

"I'm never free of it, but that's what I've chosen," he says.  "Goodness knows what I'd do if I stopped playing David Hunter, I don't think about it.  I really quite like him."

 

So of course do millions of women - and many men, too.  For David Hunter lives out the problems and dilemmas of modern-age executives everywhere.  Divorced from a demanding and alcoholic wife, he is still periodically involved with her.  He is also involved with the troubles of his grown-up son, a member of a revolutionary group.

 

In nine years as co-manager of the motel, he has become a compulsive gambler, losing a great deal of money, and he has inspired the jealous vengeance of other men.

 

And there have been the romantic entanglements.  Kelly, a swish journalist played by Justine Lord, whom he loved and lost, and a Malayan nurse.  But because Crossroads is screened when children are watching they tend to be boy scout affairs.

 

The business of being screen ladykiller seems to amuse middle-age Ronnie.  "I'm nothing like David really," he says.  "For one thing, David's terribly efficient.  I can't even pay my bills.  Viewers who write to me asking for advice are really wasting their time."

 

So are the women viewers who write to him in more intimate vein.  He's been getting letters praising his good looks and flashing smile for most of his career, but he still blushes at some of the suggestions.

 

"One woman wrote that I could park my shoes under her bed any time - adding that her husband left for work at nine and returned at 5.15.  But it's worse when they turn up in person.  Some women found out my London address and turned up on the doorstep.  They just wouldn't go away.  I had to call the police."