Bert Newton was a star, an icon, a legend, an institution and all the other accolades we’re hearing spoken in his honour as the nation mourns him. But, above all, he was great at being on television. He took to the medium like a duck to water, or a NSW premier to an ICAC hearing. He made it look effortless – and he was so outlandishly talented that for him, it probably was.

Whether trading risqué barbs with Graham Kennedy or laughing at his own spherical features with Don Lane, Bert, who died on Saturday aged 83, was always warm, polished, unflappable and, above all, witty. He could make even the banal, infomercial-clogged world of morning television watchable, as he proved for years on GMA – when things got too ridiculous, he arched an eyebrow or grinned down the barrel of the camera to let the viewer know that he was entirely aware of what he was doing.

I had the pleasure of going on GMA back in 2005 to plug a Chaser book, and Bert good-naturedly praised it as though he’d devoured every word. It was his sixth-last show doing three hours, five mornings a week, and we were chuffed to be invited.

I was particularly impressed that GMA had its own branch of Michel’s Patisserie in the green room – being from the ABC, I’d never imagined a studio with its own barista. But somehow it all seemed very Bert, both in terms of the hospitality and the nifty cross-promotion.

The show was completely live – in other words, in Bert’s element – but I wasn’t used to being on camera, and was terrified that I’d screw up. But he was incredibly warm and kind and, for a few brief minutes, Bert made me feel like we were old friends, before the show inexorably rolled on to the next segment, presumably with Moira promoting some breakthrough exercise device.

Bert was better than the show, of course – but he always gave it 100 per cent because he was that kind of performer. In the past day, I’ve seen dozens of comics and musicians write on social media that when they were starting out, Bert bent over backwards to bring them onto GMA, with a spirit of generosity that was positively Carsonesque.

We call Kennedy the King of Australian TV, but Bert ruled the Logies. I was in the room on several occasions when every intoxicated starlet stopped braying in order to hear who the great man would roast next. His controversial 2018 effort should not overshadow the countless times he was the best thing about Logies night, even long after he left our screens full time.

With four gold wins, 19 hosting gigs and countless cameos, they should rename the whole event after Bert. “Logies” was a witticism of Graham Kennedy’s – but a Gold Bert, named for Kennedy’s great sparring partner, would be truly worth winning. The trouble the event has had in finding hosts in recent years also highlights what a hard act he was to follow.