Rewind radio: The Chris Moyles Show: Radio 1's Longest Show Ever – review - The Guardian

BBC Radio 1's Longest Show Ever | iPlayer

This week, I had several muse-able topics to discuss in this column, such as… Radio 4 Extra's new parallel-universe Archers show: could Nigel be a ghost, living in Lower Loxley's airing cupboard? When Jeremy Vine was interviewing politicians on Newsnight, did he ever foresee that one day he'd be asking Radio 2 listeners whether it's a good idea to attach your name and address to your household keys? Isn't it great that Down the Line is back?

But such questions have been swept aside as irrelevancies by Chris Moyles' and Comedy Dave Vitty's 52-hour nonstop radio broadcast for Comic Relief. Crikey, this was epic. Beginning on Wednesday at 6.30am, Moyles hosted every single Radio 1 show from then until 10.30am on Friday, breaking two records as a result: the longest ever Radio 1 broadcast (previously 37 hours, by Simon Mayo in 1999) and the Guinness world record for "radio DJ endurance marathon (team)". The broadcast also raised an astonishing £2,406,648 for Comic Relief.

I tuned in at around the 26-hour mark, hoping to hear a strung-out Chris Moyles whimpering for his mummy. But he hadn't got to that stage (he never did): instead, we heard a loose and happy radio broadcaster, cracking funnies and teasing guests. Of which there were many: a host of celebrities came in, some more engaging than others. Claudia Winkleman, excellent on telly, came across like a madwoman; whereas the often irritating James Corden was charm personified. He popped up at around 11pm on Thursday, on what would have been Nick Grimshaw's programme, and stole the show with his beat-perfect performance of Kanye West's "Gold Digger".

Throughout, you could watch as well as listen; either on the web or via the red button on your telly. And hundreds of thousands did so, eventually crashing Radio 1's website in the final half-hour, when Fearne Cotton said she would dress in her swimsuit if the total went over £2m (it did, and she did. Endearingly, she kept her socks and Converse on). Would as many have watched a TV marathon? I'm not sure: telly, by its nature, is visually produced, whereas the joy of watching Moyles and Vitty was how scrappy everything looked. The studio crammed with hangers-on, the bits of paper being passed around, the thousand-yard stare that both presenters developed at around 1am on Thursday. At no point did I ever see Moyles sitting down.

There is something about staying up all night that moves your mind into a different zone, another, stranger, world. And it was clear that Chris and Dave were encamped there from late Wednesday onwards. Dave wondered if the weatherman would mention locusts; Chris thought that they were getting so much money because Duncan Bannatyne's phone was bouncing down some stairs. They managed to persuade Greg James to take his clothes off. "I can see your religion!" squawked Moyles.

Things got funnier, more direct. On Friday morning, Chris got rid of a caller because she was too shouty. He told listeners that if they donated, then they could watch Comic Relief's TV programme with a clear conscience, fast-forwarding through the sad sections to the funny bits. I went to the telly. His eyes were small black stones. Comedy Dave looked close to tears.

Chris Moyles comes in for a lot of stick, some of it from me, but this was a broadcasting tour de force; consistently entertaining, genial and engrossing. And under circumstances that would have most of us staring silently at our fingers, wondering what they were actually for. Bravo, both. Now go to bed.