RELATIONSHIPS take time to grow, and in the spirit of helpfulness we aim to assist our couples to get to know each other better. Michael, what is Charles really good at? Michael Green gives a wide grin. As an experienced bridge player, he knows when to bid high. “I think Charles has fantastic determination, he is a very hard worker, he gets to grips with the detail.” He pauses for effect. “And he certainly has an attention span that is significantly longer than mine.”

And Charles, what is Michael good at? Charles Allen narrows his already beady eyes. “I think Michael is undoubtedly charismatic,” he says in his soft Lanarkshire brogue, “very charming with people, he’s got great entrepreneurial skills . . .”

Green is furiously writing something on the pile of paper that he’s brought into the interview — my cuttings: he likes to be prepared — and now he’s trying to get Allen’s attention. He is failing.

What is it, Michael? Green laughs and jabs with a finger. “The vision thing.”

Allen nods. “Yes, Michael can see the big picture, and he can smell the deal.” Green grins, soaking in the praise like a warm shower. What a pair.

And that, to be frank, has been the assessment of Britain’s media ever since Carlton, headed by Green, and Granada, led by Allen, announced their intention to merge a year ago. Last week, the deal was finally given the go-ahead by the DTI, allowing the television duo to pitch their vision of a single ITV, chaired by Green with Allen as chief executive, ready to take on the BBC and BSkyB in an eyeball-to-eyeball ratings slugfest.

Greg Dyke, boss of the BBC, has said it will be good to have another “big gorilla” in the media jungle. Others are just worried that Allen and Green, once bitter rivals, will tear each other apart before they even get to the opposition.

But if there is any personal enmity, they do a pretty good job of disguising it. Sitting tight in the boardroom at Carlton’s Knightsbridge head office, shoulder to shoulder, both in pin-neat dark suits, Allen’s shirt blue, Green’s a spotless white, they exude matey euphoria.

Green even poked Allen in the stomach when he took off his jacket to reveal a modest waist. “Look he’s trim and I’m not, but he goes to the gym. That’s cheating.”

Allen is tapping his new chairman on the shoulder to interject an idea, Green is laying his hand on Allen’s arm to get a word in. Green is clearly making an effort, like the bride’s father welcoming a cautious in-law. It seems convincing.

Both men argue that the sceptics have missed the point: Allen and Green have spent 12 months working closely to pull off this merger, putting joint Carlton-Granada committees together to sort out how the new entity would work. If there was a clash of egos, it would have happened long ago.

And on meeting them, you have to admit they do offer a neat mix. Allen jowly, balding, quietly-spoken, mole-like in his blinking determination to push on once he has started. Green more exuberant, emollient and chatty, his brown eyes framed by trendy oblong glasses and his undoubted hard edges smoothed over with a sheen of frisky charm. Allen is 46, Green 55 though, to be honest, the ages could be reversed.

“I’m delighted with the fact that we are so different. That’s the point, we complement each other,” says Green. The world knows he is a fantastically successful, hands-on entrepreneur, north London Jewish, with a love of contemporary art, country pursuits and the Conservative party. And Allen is Scottish, working class, inscrutable, driven and meticulous, a brilliant professional manager, who has worked his way through steel, catering and television and is well-connected to Labour. Green does expressive, Allen does implacable. Green has hair, Allen doesn’t. Big picture, tiny detail. Such is the stuff of good partnerships. Why should anyone doubt they have all angles covered? Allen shrugs. “It’s just the press.”