Chris Evans - Memoirs of a Fruitcake

So lunch it was for me and the guys, not at table one as it happened, but not far off. We could see enough of what we wanted to and we were all set to get down to business as well as eat, drink and be merry in the process.

That day’s lunch party was made up of the aforementioned David Campbell, a lovely man and good friend, Andy Mollet, the financial director, a solid and trusty numbers man, and the managing director, whose name escapes me for some reason, primarily because I want it to.

After loosening up with the usual round of excellent Bloody Marys followed by a cold beer each, it was time to embark upon the blissful task of perusing the mouthwatering Langan’s menu.

Whenever I do lunch where there is business also to be done, I find it difficult to eat anything substantial. With passion being required for both, I can seldom split myself between the two, and as business was in the pound seats on this occasion, I plumped for the double Caesar salad option. This is something I used to do a lot; Caesar salad as a starter and as a main course – Hail Caesars all round and no hardship, as the Caesars at Langan’s are to die for.

With our food orders now in, our powwow was ready to get under way although it stalled momentarily as we did that classic thing of ‘everyone chatting about any subject other than the one they’re there to talk about’- the human version of starlings swarming at twilight until one of them takes the plunge.

Finally we were off and started by mulling over our thwarted bid for the Daily Star, before moving on to where we felt we were at the moment, both as a company and as individuals, taking into consideration the constraints under which we currently found ourselves.

The question in a nutshell was, ‘What could we possibly do next?’

It was patently obvious that we were in a Catch-22 situation; we’d become too successful, too quickly, and now had our hands tied. We were millions of pounds ahead of our projections in turnover and profit – three years ahead to be precise – and the board had no inclination whatsoever to risk a penny of it.

But there had to be something we could do. Even in a dark room with no windows you can still ‘think’ light.

‘Alright,’ I said, suddenly realising there was only one creative option open to us. ‘If we’re done, we’re done. Our next big idea, gentlemen’ – I paused briefly at this point partly for dramatic effect and also to make sure I had my colleagues’ full and undivided attention – ‘will be to sell the company three years ahead of schedule. This,’ I declared, ‘is definitely something we can do.’

These words were as much of a shock to me as they were to my three dining companions, but I knew it was a good idea because I suddenly acquired that sick feeling in my gut, the one you get when something is either very right or very wrong. Fortunately for all concerned this felt like the very right type to me.

There were of course issues with such a tumultuous decision; when are there not? For example, did we really want to give up this goldmine of a company before we had to? Would the company grow in value anyway without us doing anything drastic and could we reap more dividends? Why not just relax and take it easy for another year or two?

After discussing my eureka moment for a short while, the boys came up with a prophetic and convincing outline of where the business was now, considering advertising revenues, the listening figures and other important factors, including, most importantly, where the business was likely to be at our planned exit point thirty-six months hence.

As far as they could see, it was difficult to envisage the numbers getting any better than they were at present. In fact, they went on to add, it was conceivable the numbers had already reached a plateau and if anything might even begin to get worse.

As we continued to weigh up the scenario, it became increasingly hard for any of us to argue against the idea of an early sale. We therefore concluded that this was a suggestion we felt justified in putting to the board at the earliest available opportunity.

Having unanimously agreed on this course of action, a palpable air of optimism – something that had been conspicuous by its absence of late – suddenly returned.

Eighteen months after borrowing £85 million to snatch Virgin Radio from under the noses of the Capital Radio group, we were going to put the station back on the market at a guide price of between £175 million to £300 million.

Not a bad bit of business – if we could pull it off. Either way, one thing was for sure. The boys had the fire in their bellies once again.

It’s amazing what a good restaurant can serve up.

10First show on the radio (Manchester Piccadilly Radio circa 1988)

9First Big Breakfast

8Last Big Breakfast

7First Radio 1 Breakfast Show

6Playing golf in front of 30,000 people with Catherine Zeta-Jones against Bobby Ewing and Cheech from Cheech and Chong, when Catherine was playing so badly she started to cry – and that was only on the second hole!

5Leaving TFI Friday on a speedboat up the Thames with Paul McCartney

4Watching Elton John present the last ever TFI Friday in my place as I had gone AWOL

3Locking up the Giants Stadium for U2 in New York after they’d gone home. Of 60,000 people, I was the last to leave

2First Radio 2 Breakfast Show

1The mad wine night at Andrew Lloyd Webber’s house in the South of France

THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE OF THIS PERIODand for the last three years, I had been dating a saint of a woman by the name of Suzi Aplin.

Of all the amazing females I have had the ridiculous good fortune to be with in my life, there is no one who deserves a medal for services to this delusional, fruitcake of a man more than Suzi does. Suzi Aplin – television producer, live wire, force of nature and all-round, solid-gold human being.

Suzi and I got it together after a night of drunken passion, there’s no use trying to sugar-coat it and pretend otherwise. There was no romance, there was no plan, we simply started the evening in a comedy club in Greenwich and ended up back at her place later that night. The next morning we found ourselves food shopping in Suzi’s local Waitrose like a couple who had been together for years.

Suzi was, and still very much is, tall, blonde and vivacious with marvellously long legs, even for a girl of five foot ten. She is also slim, maybe a little too slim, but willowy enough to get away with it, and even though she has a classically pretty face, she has not the first idea how beautiful she really is.

As well as all these wonderful physical attributes, the package gets better the deeper you dig. She is blessed with almost inexhaustible energy and is as positive as I believe it is possible to be about everyone and everything. She can be frank when she needs to be, honest and diplomatic when it’s called for, and ditzy and dithering when she gets in a bit of a tiz – but of course this only adds to her charm. She also has the ability to listen and laugh in all the right places and lend a friend a kind shoulder when they need someone to lean on. Oh, and she’s ever such a little bit posh – which I love…

She is, I suppose, perfect – and if you’re thinking to yourself why did I ever let her go, please let’s not go there, at least not yet.

I first encountered this wonder-woman when I was working on The Big Breakfast. Suzi was the guest booker – one of the toughest jobs in the business, always fighting against other shows for first dibs on the latest people in town, then having to deal with all the egos and politics that follow such characters around.