Evans above, he’s changed!
I can remember the days when Chris Evans would announce he was leaving a radio show by skiving off on a three-day bender, buying the station, and/or running away to Las Vegas to marry a teenage pop star. It was all very irresponsible, and terribly glamorous. Half the reason anyone listened to him was to hear whether he’d do something outrageously rock’n’roll on air. Now I look at him leaving the BBC with four months’ notice, a £2million gig at Virgin, grey hair and a wine connoisseur’s ruddy face, and suddenly I feel old, sober and nowhere near as impressed.