Clarkson--Look Who's Back

by Gwen Russell

  But he still liked to put himself forward as a man in touch with his gentler side. He was caught – openly – with flowers. ‘You should see what I just bought,’ he beamed. ‘Two huge bunches of dried flowers. They’re so big we can’t get into the sitting room, but I don’t care because they look great.’ Even so, he retained a very sharp tongue when necessary: to date, he has been the chairman of the BBC’s Have I Got News For You twelve times – not a job for the unwary.

  This new, gentler image was rather undermined as Clarkson embarked on an enthusiastic explanation of his next project: his contribution to a new programme called Great Britons. It purported to find out who was the greatest of them all, with various personalities putting the case for all of them forward. The full list was as follows: Brunel, Churchill, Cromwell, Darwin, Princess Diana, Elizabeth I, John Lennon, Admiral Lord Nelson, Sir Isaac Newton and Shakespeare.

  Clarkson’s choice was Isambard Kingdom Brunel, and it soon turned out that he was taking his task seriously. Indeed, he sounded almost passionate as he put forward his man. ‘He built modern Britain and, as modern Britain built the world, Brunel built the world,’ he said. ‘He built the railways, docks, bridges, harbours and dug the first tunnel under the Thames. He was a brave man. As for other contenders, Shakespeare brought misery to the classroom. Churchill was a drunk in the right place at the right time, Darwin was a plagiarist and Oliver Cromwell a communist. And as for John Lennon – “I am the egg man?” – I don’t think so.’ So much for his gentler, more caring side.

  Brunel, who lived from 1806 to 1859, was in many ways an obvious choice for such a dedicated lover of boys’ toys as Clarkson. Born in Portsmouth to a French engineer father, he was educated in Hove and the Paris-based college Henri Quatre, before returning to Britain, where he was involved in some of the greatest engineering projects of the day. In 1838 he designed the Great Western steamship, which was the world’s largest vessel until 1899, as well as many of Britain’s most famous docks, including Bristol, Cardiff, Monkwearmouth and Milford Haven. He designed the Clifton Suspension Bridge, which was completed after his death, to say nothing of a huge network of tunnels, bridges and viaducts for the Great Western Railway.

  Clarkson’s choice was certainly approved of by other Brunel fans. ‘You only have to look around you to see the lasting impact he still has on us today,’ said Mike Rowland of the Clifton Suspension Bridge Visitor Centre. ‘If you travel by rail from Bristol to London, you see his work all around you and then there’s the huge effect he had on the infrastructure of the city docks. His broad gauge was actually more efficient and safe, but it was discarded – wrongly in my view. Also, not many people know that, during the Crimean War, he helped Florence Nightingale by helping to design and support a pre-fabricated hospital for the injured.’

  It was a very astute choice for Jeremy to make. His championing of Brunel changed the public perception of Clarkson as it became apparent he was a lot more cultured and erudite than he’d ever let on. There was no talk of twanging knicker elastic here: his appreciation of Brunel’s work showed a genuine architectural aesthetic, as well as an admiration for how much Brunel had achieved. ‘[We can learn from] his sheer capacity for work; the volume was quite immense,’ Jeremy said.

  ‘From the whole of the rail network around the south-east of England, through India and Italy, tunnels in Bath, bridges in Bristol, Cornwall and Scotland, railway buildings such as Paddington Station. The other thing is he built things which last. I see buildings thrown up now in London, and I think, “That looks nice, but it won’t be here in 100 years.” When Brunel built something, he built it to last for ever.’

  But Clarkson was Clarkson, and he was simply incapable of writing about or talking about anything without adding a slice of controversy to the mix. Writing about the colossal leap forward in the post-Industrial Revolution nineteenth century, he continued, ‘But then we arrived in, ooh, about 1920 and everything just stopped; mobile phones; word processors; the Eurofighter … They’re all just developments of ideas that came along in the nineteenth century. And it’s easy to see what went wrong: the British Empire collapsed.’

  Clarkson got into his stride. Brunel might have been a genius, but it was Empire and entrepreneurial spirit that allowed him to achieve what he did. ‘I’m going to use Isambard Kingdom Brunel here as a case study,’ he went on. ‘When he fancied the idea of building a new train or a new bridge, or a new tunnel, he had to find benefactors. And they were everywhere, gorged with cash from the Empire’s 11.5 million square miles and its 400 million inhabitants. Initial estimates for his Great Western Railway, which was to link London with Bristol, suggested it would cost £2.8 million. But this, as things turned out, would only have got it as far as Slough. The actual cost was a truly astronomical £6.5 million.

  ‘And when it was finished he went back to the financiers and said, “Let’s keep going. Let’s take the passengers off the trains in Bristol and put them on steamships to America.” And they agreed, paying for the SS Great Western and then the SS Great Britain and, when that ran aground, the enormous SS Great Eastern, the biggest ship the world had seen – or would see – until the Lusitania came along fifty years later. Now imagine if IKB were around today. And try to imagine how far he’d get if he suggested to Network South East that it should finance an idea he’d had for scramjet flight to the space station and then plasma drive rockets to the most distant of Saturn’s moons.’

  He was equally effusive on screen. Typical of his way of putting Brunel forward is this: ‘And the extraordinary thing is that a modern propeller, designed by a computer in the twenty-first century, is only 5 per cent more efficient than this propeller [on the SS Great Britain], which was designed by a Victorian bloke in a tall hat … the guy was a genius!’

  It is not putting it too strongly to say that Clarkson single-handedly changed the public perception of Brunel. Until then, he (Brunel) had been thought of, in as much as the majority of the public thought of him at all, as a distant and little-known engineer from long ago, who possibly had something to do with bridges. After Clarkson’s impassioned championship of the great engineer, public knowledge of what he had achieved shot up to such an extent that he actually came second in the final run-up, losing out only to Churchill.

  Clarkson was not surprised by the outcome – ‘As soon as I saw Winston Churchill on the list, I knew he was going to win,’ he said. But what was amazing was that a figure about whom so little had been previously known among the public ranked so high. No one could have forecast this. Whatever his detractors might have thought, this was all down to Clarkson.

  This new side to his character meant that people began to take him a lot more seriously. The city of Bristol launched a bid to become the European Capital of Culture in 2008, and started to put together plans for an international festival in 2006, Brunel 200, to celebrate the bicentenary of the great engineer’s birth: Clarkson was one of the most high-profile backers. Again, it gave him the opportunity to talk about Brunel in the most glowing tones, and to expand upon why he really had been such a great man.

  ‘Darwin told us where we came from, but it was Brunel who took us to where we wanted to go,’ he said, sounding almost lyrical. ‘He deserves to be fêted for his genius and vision, and Brunel 200 will be a wonderful way of showing everyone why he must be regarded as our Greatest Briton.’

  It was a prestigious project with which to be associated. ‘Brunel 200 is a key element in our cultural planning over the next decade and has all the makings of a marvellous festival,’ said Andrew Kelly, head of the Bristol Cultural Development Partnership, who was also involved with getting Bristol shortlisted as the European City of Culture.

  ‘At one level, it is a celebration of the wonders of the Victorian age – steam railways, ships, bridges and bold architecture. At another, it provides an opportunity for serious examination of the role and status of engineering in the twenty-first century. Brunel would be delighted that Bristol retains its reput
ation for exciting and innovative engineering through the Airbus wing design centre at Filton. The A380 super-jumbo is certainly in the Brunellian tradition.’

  Back in his normal world, the Clarkson bandwagon rumbled on. The new, revamped Top Gear was doing well, his popularity as high as ever and Jeremy as boisterous as ever. His new, gentler side had disappeared again and his opinions were in no danger of becoming any less stringent: ‘It seems that teenagers are leaving school these days well versed in the dangers of Ecstasy, but with no real idea of how to spell it,’ was one barbed remark.

  As far as his own children were concerned, now they were growing up. By the time their father returned to the programme that had made his name, Emily was eight, Finlo six and Katya four. It was in his youngest child that Jeremy saw himself best. ‘It worries me a great deal,’ he confided. ‘She is stubborn, full of beans and ignores you if you don’t say what she wants to hear. She’s also very tall and has curly hair, like me. They are my playmates. If I’m left in sole charge, they won’t go to bed on time and they won’t have a bath, but they will graze their knees and fall over. We go and race go-karts around the fields together and they love it – I just want to have fun with them.’

  He couldn’t resist introducing controversy even into the subject of his children – although he had his limits: motorbikes were a no-go area. ‘They might take drugs at some point, although I’ll be pleased if they don’t, but if any of them goes near a bike, I shall put a match in the petrol tank and set fire to it,’ he announced. ‘They are noisy and dangerous.’

  Given this attitude, it was interesting that none other than Francie had just passed her motorcycling test and was the proud owner of a Honda 125. ‘I passed the test at the second attempt,’ she revealed. ‘But I won’t be taking anyone out as a pillion passenger because I think it is too dangerous. I don’t mind putting myself at risk, but I don’t think it is fair to put others in danger.’

  It was as if, in the presence of such a strong personality as Jeremy, Francie sometimes felt the need to assert her own individuality. And Clarkson himself was adamant that it was Francie, not him, who ruled the roost. He relished the fact that she was his manager, as well as running the home, as it gave them yet more in common. ‘It means she feels involved in what I’m doing, otherwise it would be easy to lead separate lives as I’m away filming such a lot,’ Clarkson said. ‘I respect her views: if she says, “Don’t wear that,” I won’t wear it; if she says, “Don’t say that,” I won’t say it. I honestly have no idea why she loves me. In fact, sometimes I can see the hatred in her eyes. She rolls her eyes at things I write and says, “You know it will get you into trouble, don’t you?”’

  But it would be a miracle if he didn’t land in hot water, given his lengthy career as an irritant. And Jeremy thoroughly enjoyed his image, for all the talk of hurt feelings and calming down. If he didn’t, he would, after all, have changed tack, whereas he was well aware that calling Churchill a drunk who was in the right place at the right time was hardly going to go down as one of the less controversial statements of the day. But that, of course, is why he is so good at what he does. Viewers do not tune in to Clarkson for mild-mannered patter: they turn the TV on to get attitude. And he rarely fails to come up with the goods. But now he had proved he had depth as well. He may well have been a motormouth, but that’s not to say he wasn’t exceedingly capable of flexing his intellect.

  CHAPTER 10

  CLARKSON STRIDES OUT

  The programme about Brunel was not the only thoughtful piece of broadcasting Clarkson did around this time. He also presented a documentary of the history of the Victoria Cross, a stunning programme in which he followed the story of Major Robert Henry Cain, who had been awarded the Victoria Cross for gallantry during Operation Market Garden in September 1944. Again, the programme showed that Clarkson was far more than just a laddish TV presenter with a passion for cars: he came across as thoughtful, mature and appreciative of the deep sacrifices made by the men who had fought so valiantly for their country.

  The subject matter meant that he was branching out more and more. He clearly adored being back on Top Gear, but it was, by a long shot, no longer the most important part of his television career. There was, in fact, quite a bit to choose from these days, from serious documentaries to larking around in shows like Extreme Machines, Waterworld and all the rest. But this new show was clearly a product of his more serious side. Perhaps Clarkson had tired of being seen as a buffoon in so many eyes and wanted to prove he could also be as erudite as the next man.

  In order to bring the story of the Victoria Cross to life, he decided to focus on one story, that of Major Cain, to illustrate quite how brave the men awarded the medal had been. It was a successful and intelligent way of getting the facts across, for it was a moving story and one that the free online encyclopedia, Wikipedia, summarises as follows:

  Robert Cain was born of Manx parents in Shanghai, China, on the 2 January 1909, and worked for Shell in Thailand, and later Malaya, until the war began when, in 1940, he was commissioned into the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers. He was later posted to the Second South Staffords and participated in the glider assault on Sicily. Commanding B Company, the thirty-five-year-old major flew to Arnhem with the First Lift, travelling in a Horsa from Manston. However, they had only been airborne for five minutes when the tow rope became disconnected from the Albermarle tug, causing the glider to stagger while the tow rope coiled up and lashed back at them. The glider made a safe landing in a field, bumping over the rough ground and ripping through a fence before coming to a standstill. Cain described it as a terrible anti-climax, and said how the glider pilot couldn’t believe his luck, as exactly the same thing had happened to him on D-Day.

  Cain and his men flew out to Arnhem as part of the Second Lift on the following day. Upon landing, he immediately set out to find B Company, who were presently moving forward to help the First Para Brigade, but he wasn’t able to resume command until late on the following morning, when they were involved in vicious fighting in a dell around the area of the St Elizabeth Hospital. The South Staffords were being heavily attacked by tank and self-propelled guns, but they weren’t able to bring up any anti-tank guns to repel them. Mortars were effectively being fired at point-blank range upon German infantry, but the Staffords had to rely on PIATs to deal with the armour. Lieutenant Georges Dupenois kept several tanks at bay with his PIAT, while Major Jock Buchanan and Cain drew a lot of enemy fire by running around searching for ammunition for him. Cain did not believe that any tanks were actually disabled during the action, but the hits did encourage them to withdraw; even firing at the turrets when Bren guns forced them to move. The PIAT ammunition ran dry at 11.30am, and from then on the tanks had free reign over the area and proceeded to blow the defenceless troopers out of the buildings they occupied. Lt-Colonel McCardie came to see Major Cain and he ordered him to withdraw from the dell. As they were talking, Cain recalled seeing an entire bush being blown clean out of the ground. Putting down a rear guard of about a dozen men and a Bren gun, the Company withdrew from what Cain later described as the South Staffords’ Waterloo. However, only himself and a handful of other men succeeded in escaping.

  Falling back through the 11th Battalion, Major Cain informed them that the tanks were on their way and requested they give him a PIAT, though sadly they had none to spare. He withdrew his men beyond the Battalion and gathered all the remaining South Staffords under his command. Though C Company was largely intact, at this stage he only managed to form two platoons from the entire battalion.

  As the 11th Battalion were preparing to capture some high ground to pave the way for an attack by the rest of the Division, Lt-Colonel George Lea decided to utilise Major Cain and his men by ordering them to capture the nearby high ground, known as De Brink, to lend support to their own attack. This they did, but were soon spotted and came under very heavy mortar fire. The ground was too hard for the men to dig in and so they took many casualties. After he s
aw the destruction of the 11th Battalion, Cain took the decision to withdraw his men, numbering only 100, towards Oosterbeek.

  Cain appeared to have developed an intense loathing of tanks after the bitter experiences of his Battalion on Tuesday, 19th, and he personally saw to it that as many were destroyed as possible. If ever armour approached, then he would grab the nearest PIAT and set out to deal with it himself. On one occasion, two Tiger tanks approached the South Staffords’ position, and Cain lay in wait in a slit trench while Lieutenant Ian Meikle of the Light Regiment gave him bearings from a house above him. The first tank fired at the house and killed Meikle, while the chimney collapsed and almost fell on top of Major Cain. He still held his position until it was 100 yards away, whereupon he fired at it. The tank immediately returned fire with its machine gun and wounded Cain, who took refuge in a nearby shed from where he fired another round, which exploded beneath the tank and disabled it. The crew abandoned the vehicle, but all were gunned down as they bailed out. Cain fired at the second tank, but the bomb was faulty and exploded directly in front of him. It blew him off his feet and left him blind with metal fragments in his blackened face. As his men dragged him off, Cain recalls yelling like a hooligan and calling for somebody to get hold of the PIAT and deal with the tank. One of the Light Regiment’s 75mm guns was brought forward and it blew the tank apart.

  Half an hour later though, Cain’s sight returned and, against doctor’s advice, he refused to stay with the wounded and declared himself fit for duty. He also refused morphia (which was in very short supply) to ease the pain he had. Instead, he armed himself with another PIAT and went in search of tanks, frequently alone. Tigers continued to harass the Lonsdale Force and, upon hearing that one was in the area, Major Cain raced out to an anti-tank gun and began to drag it into position. A gunner saw him and ran over to assist, and the two men succeeded in disabling it. Cain wanted to fire another shot to make sure that it was finished off, but the gunner informed him that the blast had destroyed the gun’s recoil mechanism and it could no longer fire.