“Famously, if he didn’t like the story he was asked to read – if it was about sport, for instance, because he hated sport – he would just chuck [the script] on the floor and say, ‘The next story is about sport’ and he’d throw it away and start on the next story,” she said.
She also paid tribute on X, describing him as an “eccentric, one-off, brilliant broadcaster, tease, unreconstructed”, adding that “his Breakfast show on 702 Sydney was essential listening”.
Radio presenter Mike Jeffreys, who worked with Robertson throughout his career, including at 2GB, told the station he had been in touch with Robertson through his recent health issues.
“I was getting texts up until a couple of weeks ago from him. He was Clive to the end, he was quirky to the end,” he said. “He told me on several occasions that he was born on the wrong planet, maybe that was the whole approach. He would say whatever he felt like, and you know that overworked word, ‘authenticity’ – he really had that.
Robertson in 1984.Credit: Fairfax Media
“When you saw written down what he said, sometimes it would be shocking, but when you heard him say it, it was funny, and it was what you expected from Clive.
“He was a worldwide phenomenon at one stage, because of the things he would do when he was supposed to be reading the news, and would sometimes do anything but that on TV.”
Columnist and broadcaster Phillip Adams was among those who paid tribute on X: “Vale Clive. Mr Robertson was a totally original broadcaster. An anti-shock jock.”
Robertson was married for a time to actor Penny Cook, who starred in A Country Practice.
Speaking to this masthead in 2005, Denise Eriksen, then head of factual entertainment for the ABC, described Robertson as “an absolute legend”. She was responsible for casting him on a new program on which two female experts helped six couples through a life-changing experience, after she decided he was the missing ingredient.
Ericksen conceded she was taking a risk hiring the man routinely described as irascible, curmudgeonly or difficult to manage. “It’s a risky program,” she said. The show became Agony Aunts with Clive Robertson.
In that same 2005 article, in his typical self-deprecating style, Robertson likened himself to a much-loved pooch that occasionally soils the family home.
“You can’t say we have got to kill the dog because he pooped on the carpet,” he said. “You have got to take the good with the bad.”
