Leaving aside eggheads like Erasmus, Mercator and Vesalius, true renown has been brought to the university by Rik Torfs and the hugely popular VRT quiz programme De Slimste mens ter wereld.

Henri Maria Dymphna André Laurent Torfs (but known as Rik) was born in 1956 and graduated in law at Leuven, going on to specialise in canon law, the law by which the Catholic church governs itself. His academic credentials are impeccable; he has guest-lectured at Stellenbosch in South Africa, Nijmegen and Strasbourg. He has published on human rights, marriage and the benefits of forbearance. He is known
across the world as a formidable critic of the Catholic Church, the current Pope and his predecessor.

At the same time, though, something deep within this thoughtful and serious man hankers for the spotlight. He may have been chairman of the European Consortium for Church and State Research, but he was also a guest at Sports Personality of the Year, and on another occasion was "godfather" to one of the Miss Belgian Beauty contestants.

But it was for De Slimste mens that he became a national icon. This show, which airs nightly during its season run and which features famous people who have the guts to tackle its daunting questions, has become a Flemish institution. It's presented by movie director Erik Van Looy and has a resident expert in über-intellectual Marc Reynebeau. The guests are journalists, politicians and performers. Comedians do remarkably well, with series wins for Stany Crets, Bert Kruismans and Wouter Deprez. Het Nieuwsblad journalist Anneliese Rutten won in 2007.

Torfs' job in the show is to make witty and wise remarks about the questions or the answers or the contestants, or Erik Van Looy. Some may find his waspish wit a little self-congratulatory, but as his demonstration of the macarena showed, he's game
for a laugh.

What they'll do without him in the next season, which begins in December, is a complement to his impact. He's only just announced he won't be taking part, but already the VRT has decided it will take no fewer than eight people to replace him, substituting his one-man jury with an entire panel. Enough, coincidentally, to stand up and give us a pretty reasonable gavotte, should the question ever arise.