They never made jokes. Real jokes. Clever, observant, well-phrased gags.
Think about it. Did they ever make you really laugh? Out loud with something witty that didn't rely on the "punchline" being an actual punch — a put-down of someone, somewhere? Usually a listener, often a woman?
It's a point that many media commentators, mostly awed by the pair's commercial success, never seem to understand as they continue to anguish over the demise of this show.
(Truthfully, the duo's success formula is about as mysterious as that of Married at First Sight: crowds will always flock to a fight at a Colosseum.)
But Melbourne is a strange beast — and I'm going to claim some standing here as one of the few Melbourne radio hosts who have successfully made the move to the Sydney airwaves — ahem, just leaving this headline here …
Melbourne is a stranger and more difficult market to conquer, because it is a second city.
Yes, yes — Time Out now says Melbourne is the "best city in the world", whatever that means, but Melbourne has always played a secondary economic, political and pop-cultural role to Sydney, and therefore is much more wary of "outsiders" coming to town. Sydney is not: it welcomes everyone because, to paraphrase Paul Keating's famous put-down, Sydney expects everyone to want to be there, otherwise they're just camping out.
So, if you come to Melbourne, you come with enthusiasm and a willingness to do the work of belonging — something Kyle steadfastly refused to do. "It's just expanding the footprint of the show," he said of the move, pushing back on the idea of visible Melbourne-based promotion.
Not the right call, it turns out.
And then, if you can't play the Melbourne radio market at its own comedy game and you don't bring the laughs, you will not make it.
Melbourne is the radio home of Hamish and Andy, Dave Hughes and Kate Langbroek. Of Denise Scott, Shaun Micallef and Fifi Box.
Of the D Generation, Sam Pang, Red Symons and Sammy J.
It's the home of Martin and Molly, one of the most successful, nationally syndicated FM radio comedy duos of all time. I was presenting Drive on ABC Melbourne radio while they were on Fox FM, and the rare days I was off air became my guilty pleasure of secretly listening to an iconic comedy partnership that almost had me off the road with helpless laughter.
These presenters could all handle a half hour of live stand-up as easily as they did three hours on air. They had the comedy chops.
And I don't think I ever heard them punch down to their audience.
To understand it all better, consider this: the peerless Judith Lucy flopped in Sydney: that audience preferred … Kyle and Jackie O.
I did not listen often, but when I heard Kyle and Jackie O's most publicised exchanges, it was always shocking how savaging a caller or a texter — mocking them, humiliating them — was their version of fun. Find me the systemic examples if you can, but that's just not the way successful Melbourne radio hosts roll.
Kyle was vicious, and Jackie served women up to him for his sport like a kind of bogan Aunt Lydia. It was astonishing.
It's a Sydney commercial radio reality that shocked me from the day I arrived there to broadcast on ABC radio 702: a presenter-audience relationship that seemed akin to a sub/dom dynamic.
I couldn't believe how rough the presenters were with their own audience — Alan Jones, John Laws — and I couldn't believe that listeners came back and fronted up for more. It certainly was a very successful formula for Kyle and Jackie O.
I had an interesting exchange with one member of a former, highly successful radio duo during the week, and he suggested that the Melbourne failure of Kyle and Jackie O was more to do with their refusal to engage with the Melbourne audience — and, he noted, "their content choice".
But in a city with a minor chip on its shoulder — and as a Melburnian I feel I can say that — content choice is not an "and": it's an EVERYTHING.
If the content is almost unremittingly mean and takes you way out west beyond the comedy meridian — then in a city like Melbourne, that's a place from which there is no return.
This weekend, as we all ponder whether Oscar hopeful Timothèe Chalamet has yet figured out that he's not supposed to want to work in ballet or opera, given he's not qualified to do either — let's celebrate 50 years of the Indigenous Dance College in Kariong, NSW.
Have a safe and happy weekend — this weekend's music belongs, of course, to opera — and a most charming up-yours to Mr Marty Supreme. Enjoy. Go well — and go to the opera and ballet.