Why is Chris Moyles yawning on live radio? If he's that relaxed on the mic, what's he wearing in the studio? Wait. Don't answer that. This type of Loaded lad culture obviously resonates with the seven million tuning in every day, but what seemed like wayward Grange Hill behaviour from an older cousin 10 years ago now plays out as the can't-be-arsed attitude of a slob. "Moylesy" appeals in the same way that watching 30-year-old men play ProEvo in their kecks appeals. I suppose that's why it's this demographic that makes up his audience, not the youth market targeted by the UK's "coolest" frequency.
Having listened to Zoë Ball and Sara Cox when I was 18 (prime Radio 1 bait), I abandoned Moyles's Radio 1 breakfast show because it seemed a vehicle to massage his own ego. Whether slamming the phone down on callers or badgering Emma Bunton or Billie Piper or any busty blonde he craved unrequited attention from, Moyles's Jesus of Radio shtick painted him as a geezer who never cared about anyone else. To figure out why his slot fell out of favour with my generation I gave last Thursday's episode a whirl. Between yawns, Moyles "discusses" the forthcoming World Pride day. Mumbling with his sidekick (not Funny Haha Dave, the camp one), Moyles goes into Alpha Male bullying mode to ridicule the celebrations, reducing them to a show of "glitter and hot pants". His homophobia has been flagged before, so while this was offensive it came as no surprise. The gay gags didn't make me switch off. It was that yawning. A sound that says: Chris Moyles thinks he's bigger than Radio 1.
A successful radio station is a home for like-minded ears, a family of bound-together enthusiasts. No one personality should overtake that. "Yeah but seven million listeners for eight years can't be wrong," you might say. Yes they can. Radio 1 bills iteself as the home of new music and its entry point for those eight years has been a "banter King" who specialises in parodies of your favourite songs. Like your dad.
Wednesday's announcement that Moyles is leaving felt less end of days, more miraculous. Radio 1's breakfast show could reclaim its edge and in turn attract some listeners who possess calculators and know what YOLO means. Speculation mounted: would Fearne Cotton exclaim her way into our lives even earlier in the day?; might it be James George, sorry Greg Joe … the schoolboyish one with the forenames? Or could Annie Mac heal Broken Britain one burst of thwacking bass at a time?
Nick "Grimmy" Grimshaw – northern, often slack-jawed over a Geldof – wasn't anyone's first guess. He's hip but not exclusive; he's young but experienced; he's loud but not obnoxious; he parties but works hard. Crucially, he loves music – and he's visible. Go to enough gigs in grotty venues and you will see him, singing every word. Grimshaw's challenge will be trying to bring some influence to bear on the Radio 1 A-list, changing the nation's listening habits, giving the charts an overdue wallop, building his own community, playing more music. To bring a "cool" audience back to Radio 1 without losing listeners, you need to be the Topshop of broadcasting: universally appealing and always inclusive. Mostly you need to not be Chris Moyles. Nick Grimshaw – fresh-faced, not too cocky and unafraid of the real world – won't start our mornings with a yawn.
