This is possibly our first controversial choice, but don’t forget we’re covering the whole of the Cream Era here, and during the early 90s CHRIS EVANS was undoubtedly the most inventive, most likeable and most popular person on the box. Besides, in 1993 every kid in Britain was nuts about him.
The Evans career path is well-known: born in Warrington, no qualifications, tarzan-o-grams, then the sack from Piccadilly Radio. It all came good at GLR at the turn of the 1990s, where he presented a fabulously exciting radio show crammed with humour, best illustrated by his feature Billy where he got people to ring in on their car phones (it was London, people had them there) and simply shout “Billy!” at passers-by, just to confuse them.
Presented in front of a studio audience, Evans’ show became cult listening in the capital and helped get him some telly work, including a daily show on BSB’s Power Station and a contract with TV-am, only for him to get immediately dropped by the latter when the company lost its franchise (though Evans still got paid for 35 unmade programmes).
His big break, though, came on 28 September 1992 when he presented the first episode of The Big Breakfast. Rarely had their been such an excellent combination of host and programme, as his quick wit and likeable personality made him the perfect host for two hours of utterly shambolic but captivating television.
It was Evans who brought with him the idea of getting the crew on camera, which was then ripped off by every other show on TV, while his encounters with Zig and Zag made it the first breakfast telly you’d ever actually set the video for.
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1Adq9yCCdM
Evans seemed able to cope no matter what went wrong, and he quickly established himself as one of the TV stars of the decade, appealing to adults and kids alike with his charm and cheek.
Next came Don’t Forget Your Toothbrush, another hugely influential show that made him millions and was packed with brilliant moments, whether it was Evans giving away his own car, getting an entire street to flash their lights on and off, or taking the entire audience off on holiday.
Ripped off by ever light entertainment show since, it’s amazing to think it lasted barely 12 months before Evans decided to end it as he was out of ideas.
Then there was the Radio 1 Breakfast Show, which was required listening for the first year, and even the first few months of TFI Friday were properly exciting.
Of course, it all went wrong later in the decade with a load of self-indulgent unpleasant rubbish, but for a few short years Chris Evans was the best person on television. And he’s OK now, isn’t he? [Speak for yourself - Ed.]
THE DEFINING ROLE: Whether it was helming Invention Corner, running The Birthday Dip or messing around with Zig and Zag, The Big Breakfast was Evans’ finest hour.
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INITIALLY AFFABLE inventive bloke in oddly-named Sunday lunchtime slot Too Much Gravy, revolving around such offbeat gambits as Mind The Gap, basically phoning an unsuspecting celebrity during a brief bit of silence in a pop record. Then he had a couple of big TV hits, and was duly repositioned as a Britpop-toting ‘Zoo Radio’ Breakfast host intended to increase Radio 1′s listenership tenfold. It worked for a bit, but then he got obnoxious, then arrogant (especially about his friendship with the Brothers Gallagher and the incredible feat of being more popular than a local radio DJ in a remote part of Scotland), then unlistenably vitriolic about individual Radio 1 ‘suits’, and finally tired and emotional before sidling out through the back door to concentrate on TFI Friday.
UTTERLY INSANE technologically regressive courting of the ‘moaner’ listenership launched amidst much ‘back to basics’ Classic Rock hoo-hah on 30th April 1993, promising some kind of revolutionary exploding of the way we listen to radio, which turned out to involve little more than ‘quallidy music’ by the likes of Eric Clapton and Simply Red, toted by the sort of presenters who’d recently been thrown out on their ear by Radio 1, and all of it in glorious Medium Wave Muffle-O-Sound. Drew spectacular fire from the likes of Danny Baker, Chris Morris and Terry Christian, and became something of a laughing stock until a BBC-fleeing Chris Evans bought out a hefty wedge of the company and installed himself on Breakfast, with loads of voluble ‘rising media star’ chums (Jonathan Ross, Gail Porter etc) in tow, when its stock rose a little. Now renamed Absolute Radio and seemingly solely concerned with capturing Razorlight in ever more advanced states of ‘live’.
SHORT-LIVED gap in the market-spotting from one Richard Branson, offering an overnight ‘sustain service’ for those impoverished local commercial stations that had to shut down at bedtime, with the exciting and new likes of Ruby Wax, Jonathan Ross and, erm, Steve ‘Interesting’ Davis entertaining late-night listeners (usually with one Chris Evans in the producer’s chair). Ground to a halt when purchasers realised they could save money and fill the gap by paying some eager-to-please newcomer next-to-nothing to present a ‘Love Zone’ made up of that Dan Fogleberg record and requests for ‘Jenny listening in Stockport there’.
MANCHESTER-based ad-supported service renowned as the first stop on Chris Evans’ rampage through radio; inevitable sacking rumoured to have followed on-air announcement that he “liked cats, lightly grilled on both sides”. Colleagues on various sides of the chronological spectrum included Mark Radcliffe, Timmy Mallett (who claims to have once locked himself out of the studio live on air), Terry Christian, Frank Sidebottom and endlessly-’launched’ latecomer to the Funny Phone Call party Steve Penk.
ULTIMATE MANIFESTIATION of the Bannisterisation process, in the form of an Altered States-style time-bending mutation that straddled the best and worst of old and new-style Radio 1 both at once, courtesy of belch-friendly ‘ladette’ persona (eg lots of censure-inviting swearing mixed with excited chatter about snogging someone out of an indie band and trying to remember PC Copper’s name). Started in the outer fringes of the schedules until a long-time-coming Chris Evans strop ultimately saw her catapulted into hugely successful Breakfast stint (initially co-hosting with Kevin Greening), to audible consternation of old ladies on the bus.
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