I only remember the Generation Game, which Google reveals has a dimly recalled Larry Grayson predating Bruce. Oh, and Isla St Clair. I was definitely too young for her. Which was possibly a shame, as my proto-sexual awakenings had to wait for Sally James.
Growing up in a house where the TV was never switched off (well, other than those moments of bliss when the fifty pence meters ran out*), Brucey was ubiquitous. I admit I came to fear Saturday evening TV like some people fear the rising tide of the brain-hungry undead. Or toe fungus. I, by the by, fear toe fungus more than zombies. You can't outrun toe fungus.
*two failure points, the leccy meter and the metered Radio Rentals TV, you feed the TV and the power would go off five minutes later or vice versa, and you can guess which child had to go round the neighbours with a bag of random change to try and exchange for a 50 pence piece. I once, memorably, came back with a ferret clamped to my finger. And no 50p or, I recall, sympathy.)