Obituary: Robert Robinson, broadcaster and author

Robert Robinson, broadcaster and author.

Born: 17 December, 1927, in Liverpool.

Died: 12 August, 2011, in London, aged 83.

HE HAD an ease with words and was a stimulating wordsmith. Robert Robinson became best known for his erudite manner when chairing such quizzes as Call My Bluff and Ask the Family on television and Brain of Britain of Radio 4. He succeeded the fabled Jack de Manio as presenter of Radio 4's Today programme and brought a certain old-world charm - along with his co-presenter John Timpson - to the programme. Robinson was very much his own man and maintained throughout a refined irreverence to BBC authorities and all politicians.

His rather aloof attitude raised some eyebrows - he delighted in signing off Brain of Britain in a rather Dickensian manner, "I bid you goodbye." But his urbane use of language reflected something of a bygone era at the BBC: Robinson captured the days of the gentleman presenter who took care with words, pronunciation and diction. He was witty, articulate and an extrovert. When he left the rigours of the Today programme for Call My Bluff, Robinson quipped, "At least you knew Call My Bluff was a game."

Robert Henry Robinson was the son of an accountant who moved the family to the Surrey suburbs when Robinson was young. He prospered at Raynes Park Grammar School and then read English at Exeter College, Oxford, where he edited Isis and formed life-long friendships with Shirley Williams, Robin Day and Peter Parker. Robinson did his national service with the West African Army and then started as a journalist. He was a showbiz reporter for some time - not endearing himself to Hollywood siren Rita Hayworth by asking her which husband belonged to which child.

In 1960, Robinson was appointed editor of the Atticus diary column on the Sunday Times and about that time he was offered many radio jobs. But it was a television programme of the late Sixties that brought Robinson national fame. The weekly Picture Parade had large viewing figures. Information about the newest movies was eagerly awaited and Robinson found the right balance between in-depth discussion and chatting with the stars

That, in turn, led to Robinson being the presenter on Points of View, which filled a five-minute gap before the 9 O'Clock News. It saw Robinson at his best, teasing both the viewer and the BBC with asides and quips that often stung those in authority at the corporation. In his no-nonsense style, Robinson briskly conducted the presentation of viewers' letters about BBC programmes. "We are here," he said on the first edition, "to save television from complacency."

In the mid-Sixties, Robinson left Points of View for BBC3, a satirical show which dealt with contemporary events. One Saturday night in 1965, Robinson was chairing a discussion on censorship. On the panel was the theatre critic Kenneth Tynan. Robinson recalled in his autobiography that "Tynan said on live television, 'I don't think anyone would mind if they heard the word f*** spoken in the theatre'. There was a tremendous gasp from the audience. This word had never been used in a newspaper, never uttered on radio or television. When Tynan took it upon himself to shatter it, people felt the foundations of their privacy shift."

Another member of the panel suggested this was a historic moment. "Then," Robinson added urbanely, "history's made very easily."

It was 1971 that Robinson joined Today, a programme he claimed never to have heard. He certainly remained dismissive of politicians ("all politicians are prevaricatory and evasive") and he and Timpson prepared for the programme scowling at each other over their typewriters - the researchers dubbed them the Brothers Grim.

But he and Timpson proved a winning team, and as Today was not the agenda-setting programme it is now, they had the personalities to ask searching questions (one MP who claimed it was everyone's duty to round up stray dogs, was repeatedly asked by Robinson how to distinguish a stray from the unstray. "With butterfly nets?" he asked whimsically).

On one slow news day, the editor had devoted time to an item about a woman whose knickers had fallen down in Selfridges. "If that's news," mused Robinson aloud at the end, "on what principle is anything ever left out?" Not for the first time, the director-general, Ian Trethowan, fired off an acerbic memo. Months later, Robinson wondered on air why MPs had such long holidays. The DG fired back another memo: "Such ignorance."

The truth was that Robinson was an independent spirit and not keen on being controlled in the studio, let alone by senior executives. The public warmed to his attitude and voted him Radio Personality of the Year, but in 1974, the ritual of the early-morning trip to Broadcasting House and the "sonorous drivel" spoken by the politicians made him decide to quit Today.

The BBC found a much more suitable vehicle for him that year. Stop the Week went out on a Saturday evening and discussed a variety of items, from the serious to the amusing ("Is Dan Maskell posh?"), with the music provided by Instant Sunshine and Fascinating Aida. Robinson was the genial chairman and kept the conversation going apace: the main aim was to entertain each other. The thrust of the programme made for excellent early-evening listening and allowed Robinson full reign to bring up the oddest of subjects: "At what point in the English Channel do English seagulls become French seagulls?" Robinson remained the benevolent chairman until 1992.

Robinson wrote a witty autobiography Skip All That and several novels. He much enjoyed vintage cars and his 16th-century cottage in Somerset, but stayed and entertained more often in a large house in Chelsea's Cheyne Row. People loved his impish remarks and his ability to attract controversy.Once he opened Today by saying: "I'm at that dangerous age when you fancy both the mother and the daughter, and if you're both listening … good morning."

Robinson married, in 1958, Jose Richard. They had one son and two daughters