Clarkson--Look Who's Back

by Gwen Russell

  Soon he was in the papers again, although in this case it was someone else’s actions rather than his own that made the headlines. And what a disillusioning time it was for him, too. Jeremy had long been a fan of the model Kate Moss, frequently describing her as one of the most beautiful and desirable women in the world, and so, at the London première of Steve Coogan’s The Man Who Thinks He’s It, he was utterly delighted to see Kate was present, too. Judging his moment, he went up to her, held out a hand and said, ‘Hi, I’m Jeremy Clarkson. I do Top Gear.’

  Kate looked confused. ‘Are you trying to sell me drugs?’ she asked.

  That exchange has gone down in the annals of show-business history as one of the all-time misunderstandings, and it had another consequence too – Clarkson’s crush on Kate ended then and there. ‘I’d never met Kate Moss before,’ he said afterwards. ‘To be honest, I didn’t really know who anyone was in her party – they were all far too young for me.’ He certainly knew who she was, though, and must have thought it the opportunity of a lifetime to finally be able to say hello.

  It was an intensely amusing moment for the onlookers. ‘It was a very funny exchange,’ said one witness to the event. ‘Jeremy was keen to say hello to Kate, but was mystified by her response. She just looked very strangely at him and asked him if he was talking about drugs. Everyone around them just fell about laughing. Noel Gallagher was sitting with Kate and was killing himself at her mistake. She saw the funny side, too – once she realised what Jeremy meant.’

  It was a slight blow to the ego, however. Not only did Kate not have the faintest idea who Jeremy was, but she had clearly never heard of the programme, either. It would have been better, far, far better, if they had never met.

  Clarkson himself, meanwhile, was up to his old tricks again, causing upset and outrage everywhere he went. First, he announced that everyone who rode a scooter was clearly homosexual. The next furore came at that October’s Motor Show in Birmingham, when Jeremy took part in a quiz on the Top Gear stand. He kicked off by commenting, ‘The British motor industry is really owned by Nazis’, before nearly causing an international incident by upsetting the Koreans on a nearby stand. Jeremy accused the Hyundai staff of eating dogs and, for good measure, added that the Hyundai XG model itself was a ‘dog’s dinner’.

  This did not go down well and the ensuing row was on a scale that was large even for Jeremy. ‘Clarkson said the people on our stand had eaten dog – as the company is Korean – and that the designer of one of our cars, the XG, had eaten a spaniel,’ said Stephen Kitson, head of Hyundai’s public relations. ‘Our staff on the stand, which is right next to Top Gear’s, have been offended. We feel the comments are bigoted and racist and vindictive.’ Clarkson had almost certainly not meant his comments to be taken so seriously – he frequently gives the appearance of amazement that anyone ever listens to a word he has to say, but again, he clearly couldn’t help himself. A politically incorrect joke popped into his mind and he made it.

  But it wasn’t taken that lightly by everyone else. Indeed, Hyundai were so offended that they complained to the then- BBC director general John Birt, while the organisers of the Motor Show had words with the Top Gear team. This did not worry Jeremy, who the next day advised visitors to the show who had their dogs with them to avoid the Hyundai stand. ‘They’ll sprinkle some ketchup on the poor thing’s back, and the next thing you know you’ll have an empty lead,’ he said. Cue absolute outrage. There have been frosty moments between Clarkson and Hyundai ever since. Jeremy, needless to say, has been unrepentant.

  As in the above exchange, though, it is hard not to feel that the joke is on those who get hot under the collar. For a start, Clarkson was not being serious. Secondly, he was trying – successfully – to rile the people that he did. Thirdly, in this and many other controversies, it is Jeremy’s opponent who comes across as being utterly po-faced, both for lacking a sense of humour and for taking themselves too seriously. Better by far to let him make his jokes and have done with it.

  It was easy to see why Clarkson sometimes became so irritated by the people who got worked up about what he had to say. Of the frequent charges of sexism, he was quite blunt with one interviewer. ‘This is just pathetic,’ he said. ‘Your life must be so shallow if you can watch the news and see that the Americans have blown up a baby food factory, discover the Arctic’s melting, and you then get whipped up about me saying, “This’ll snap your knicker elastic.” It’s extraordinary.’ One had to concede he had a point – as well as making reference to the concerns about global warming.

  There were, by now, almost two Clarksons. First, there was the aggressive, rude, motormouthed Jeremy, but these days there was also the country-dwelling squire of the manor, with six acres of countryside and a growing collection of cars. There was the Ferrari – who could forget the Ferrari? Jeremy certainly couldn’t. ‘It’s kinetic art and I’d put it in the sitting room if the sitting room was large enough,’ he once said. ‘I’ve made a lot of sacrifices to buy it and, at the moment, I could sell it for more than it cost, but I expect the market will collapse and I’d be left looking a ninny. I don’t subscribe to pensions and I’d rather enjoy a Ferrari than a piece of paper telling me how much my investments are worth. You have only 600,000 hours to live and I don’t want to be bored for a minute.’

  That was clearly his life philosophy. But these days, there were other cars too. Jeremy was also the proud driver of a Jaguar XJR: ‘The nicest thing is that you can pull up outside an expensive West End hotel and the doorman will scuttle out and open the door, and yet, in south London, it won’t be touched because people assume you’re a drug dealer. I think I’m a bit too young for it.’ It was also on permanent loan to Jeremy, as opposed to a car he had bought himself, something he admitted very nearly amounted to a freebie. ‘It’s a borderline case, I must confess,’ he said. ‘I come from Yorkshire, where, if someone asks, “Do you want a free car?” the answer is, “Yes, on the understanding that if it falls to bits I’ll write about that.”’

  But Jeremy was adamant that, on the whole, he avoided such things. The motor industry was only too keen to butter up as many journalists as it could by organising fantastic journeys, opportunities and promotional events, which Clarkson thought better left untouched. ‘Bundles of cash aren’t pushed across the table, but there’s a lot of corporate hospitality, which I avoid like a rabid dog,’ he said. ‘It’s, “Come to the south of France, first class; stay in the Carlton; drive the car for an hour and we’ll tip champagne and caviar down your throat for days on end.” I wish they’d just send the car round. I haven’t time to listen to PRs spouting rubbish for hours. The minute they open their mouths, you put your fingers in your ears and hum. It’s far better to keep at arm’s length from the car world.’

  It was this kind of attitude that gave him the authority to speak as he did. For all the entertainment factor in Clarkson’s work, it is often forgotten that he would never have got where he is today had he not actually been a very good reporter in the industry. Clarkson is loved and loathed in equal measures, but no one doubts his integrity. In fact, it’s a measure of the man that he is completely trusted when it comes to cars: for all the protestations that no one listens to what he says, the fact is that they do. They are aware that he will not have had his head turned by the lavish hospitality that is part of that world: he will speak his mind and give his opinion as befits the blunt northerner that he still is.

  It was the summer of 1998 and a new programme was in the offing, this one called Waterworld. As the title suggests, this time it was about the machines that travel on water. ‘It remains to be seen how much viewers can take of a speed boat or yacht whizzing along, but it’s been great fun because I’ve always loved boats more than cars,’ Clarkson said. ‘The sea is designed for fish, not boats, so you’re not only taking on a machine, but trying to tame the elements. It’s a free-for-all. There are no speed limits. You can drink and drive – some are paralytic, which isn’t a good
idea – but it’s nice to be allowed to make up your own mind rather than having Mr Blair and Mr Prescott interfering.’

  The image of Clarkson as a man of the seas is a convincing one. But the multiple challenges he was setting himself were what he was really enjoying. Yes, he was now seeing how well he could handle a boat. But he was also setting himself a new task, as he did whenever he tried out a new venture: to take the viewer with him. More and more the success or otherwise of these programmes hung on Clarkson himself, for they were as much vehicles for him as they were programmes about their subject matter. And, in the competitive world of television, anything that didn’t work well would have been pounced on and his reputation damaged.

  By this time, however, there really was no one else working in the industry who could touch him. None of the other motoring correspondents had anything like the draw he did, and none had been able to cross over so successfully into more mainstream TV. Nor were there many presenters who could pull in the viewers merely on account of their names. But Jeremy was now one of them: with him on board, a programme was guaranteed at least a viewing and, in a great many cases, success.

  With this increasing success, however, Jeremy had lost none of his power to irritate and cause trouble. Media mogul Janet Street-Porter was the latest to chip in: ‘If I really want to make myself ill, I think about Jeremy Clarkson,’ she announced. Clarkson responded by saying he hoped wolves would be reintroduced into the countryside and that one would eat her. The public lapped it up. Jeremy was clearly unafraid to take on anyone – and was also extremely creative when he returned fire.

  Nonetheless, it did sometimes worry people that he would misbehave in the wrong circumstances. For all the complaints about the state of television today, in some quarters it is still remarkably staid and there were people who were seriously concerned that one day Clarkson would go too far. On the one hand, he was sought after as a television presence, particularly when fronting a programme but, on the other, there was nervousness about letting him live on air. Would he do or say something totally unacceptable? Almost certainly not, for Clarkson was nothing if not professional, but that was not enough to assuage some fears.

  Even Judy Finnegan was cautious and said she didn’t want him on Good Morning. Clarkson was bemused. ‘She was obviously worried I’d swear and break wind,’ he said. Understandably, he drew attention to the fact that he was now a married father, not a young yob bigging it up of a Saturday night. ‘I’m called a lad, but I’m thirty-eight and my hair’s falling out,’ he went on. ‘On Top Gear, we’re middle-aged men with families, who arrive at the office saying, “It was great last night. Went home, had supper in front of the telly, and was in bed by eleven.” Very laddish!’

  Above all, though, the day job continued to thrill. Jeremy adored cars more than ever, an enthusiasm he effortlessly communicated to the audience. For years now he had been presenting Top Gear, and yet he still came across as fresh, as passionate and as knowledgeable about the subject as ever. And much as he might object to still being seen as a lad in some quarters, he had no problem whatsoever when it came to associating him with cars. He remained transfixed by the image that a particular car conveyed, as well as how well it actually moved, and continued to bang this message across.

  ‘I don’t mind being typecast with cars – it’s more fun than flowers or duvets – and I’m still thrilled whenever I get into a new one, even if it’s cheap and from Poland,’ he said. ‘The real challenge is, “How can I convey this car?” They’re mostly fast, reliable and economical, so you have to ask, “What does it say about you?” Some drivers spend a fortune on personal appearance and then buy a crappy car. You think, “No, no, no.” In a traffic jam it is a full metal yashmak, the only clue as to what sort of person you are.’

  Despite the caution of some television executives, Clarkson’s popularity was now in the stratosphere. If anything, his growing rudeness endeared him even more to his particular fan base. This popularity was now such that it allowed him to branch out into other fields, too, as demand for him grew across the industry. Details were initially unclear, but it emerged that a new type of television show was on the cards, one that had nothing to do with cars or, indeed, any other kind of moving vehicle.

  He had risen above the programme that launched him: it was no longer just Jeremy Clarkson of Top Gear, but Jeremy Clarkson as a character and personality in his own right. He was proving that he could stay the course too. Unlike many celebrities, he had not buckled under the pressure, let it go to his head or made one of the myriad mistakes that can cause problems. He had also proved himself more than capable of taking the flack he so frequently encountered, knowing that if he upset people they were bound to shout back and all he needed to do was to open his mouth to cause a furore from some sector of the population. Controversy followed him everywhere – and he liked it that way.

  So it was no surprise that when details first began to emerge about his next project, it was clear that this was going to be a different type of show. Despite the undoubted strengths he brought with him to his work, up until now – as he frequently said himself – the programmes he presented could have been done by another man. Top Gear, Extreme Machines and the rest were certainly perfect shows for him to work on, but they didn’t exist purely because Jeremy was there to front them: they were concepts in their own right. Now, however, it looked as if a new kind of project was on the horizon, one specifically tailored to cater to the strengths of its front man. Initially, despite the added pressure this would bring, Clarkson was very calm.

  ‘I’m very busy and sometimes think I’ve overdone it,’ he said. ‘I never had any aspirations. Ambition seems to be a worry. You either achieve it, in which case, so what? Or you don’t and you’re disappointed. There’s nothing I ever really want to do, which means I’m never going to be disappointed. If it all goes wrong tomorrow, and it will – my teeth will turn yellow with nicotine, my hair will fall out and I won’t be able to think of anything interesting to say – I’ll put the past few years in a box, label it, “A good time” and shove it in the loft. I’m quite practical about everything.’

  But this casual attitude didn’t last. Towards the end of 1998, it was announced that he was going to get his very own chat show on BBC Two called, as logic would dictate, Clarkson. Jeremy affected great concern at the opprobrium that would almost certainly be heaped on him from the moment the show first aired, and then couldn’t resist bringing up both the gay scooter and the Hyundai incidents again, as examples of why people might hate him.

  It was an interesting idea. There have only ever been two real maestros of the British chat show – Terry Wogan and Michael Parkinson – and so to bring a very different kind of interviewer to the screen was something of a gamble on the BBC’s part. But it was not as outlandish as it looked. Like Parkinson, Clarkson had actually started as a journalist, and understood how to go about getting information out of the people he would be meeting on screen. The BBC was also clearly hoping that Clarkson’s controversial streak would strike some interesting debate – something singularly lacking in the British chat show to date – as well as sparky television. And he certainly had a personality that could command the small screen.

  But a chat show is not an easy vehicle in which to shine, as television presenters too numerous to mention had discovered before now. It requires a mix of strong personality yet an ability to stand back from the centre stage, something that is extremely difficult to pull off. Jeremy might have the ability to start a row with one of his guests, but would he be able to get them to tell him anecdotes, and would his sheer presence be overwhelming? Clarkson is, after all, a very big man, and that, as much as his ability to have an argument, can actually make some people very nervous of him.

  But whatever doubts anyone else might have were more than matched by the man himself. Clarkson was as self-deprecating as ever, and really did appear to be having an attack of nerves. This was completely different from anything he’d
done before and it was more pressurised, too. Unlike all the others he had done, this programme would stand or fall because of its presenter, not his subject matter, which meant that attention was going to be focused on Clarkson as never before.

  His many detractors would be itching for it to fail, while at the same time it would say a great deal about Jeremy’s future in the industry. Could he be a stalwart of the business, able to take on any number of different types of programming, or would he be lost without his props – the cars and other machines – and not be able to go it alone? The more he was able to branch out into different strands of television, the better it would be for his career in the long term. But equally, a high-profile flop could do him some serious damage. Clarkson understood just what was at stake.

  ‘There is a world of difference between doing a poky motoring programme on BBC Two and being a presenter,’ he said. ‘The chat show may be the only thing that sorts it out, which is another reason why I am so worried. If [people] are watching Top Gear, it is because they’re interested in cars. But suddenly I’m in a studio doing an opening monologue and it’s just me. I’ve suddenly got to become a lot more interesting in the next few months.’ That last comment, however, was a little disingenuous. Clarkson was chosen to do the show precisely because he had such a forceful personality.

  Nervous he might have been, but he was becoming seriously wealthy with it. Estimates now put his annual salary at about £500,000, and the Clarksons continued to live in some style. In some ways that made what he was about to do riskier still: he had built a fortune on one type of programme and he was not going to try something completely different without careful consideration. Jeremy was hugely popular among a large section of the population, but if this went badly – and, of course, there was a chance that it would – then he risked ruining his reputation and with it losing his fan base. But Clarkson was not a man to avoid a challenge.