Top Gear as we know it ended last night. Despite James May dressing up like a hideous stonewash Doctor Who – and Richard Hammond sporting a horrific David Brent-ish goatee that made him look as if he’d daubed his chin with honey and then bog-snorkelled through an anthill – it was a decidedly solemn affair. Perhaps too solemn, in fact, given that it ended with the sort of silent credit sequence that Game of Thrones tends to reserve for episodes that end with scenes of graphic genocide.
But don’t be sad. Kill Top Gear and two Top Gears will inevitably spring up in its place. Just as the first run of Top Gear birthed both Channel 5’s Fifth Gear and the revived Dadrock Top Gear that Jeremy Clarkson created in his own image, we’ll soon be inundated with laddy motoring programmes.
We already know about the Chris Evans-fronted Top Gear, largely because Chris Evans refuses to ever shut up about the bloody thing. But former Top Gear producer Andy Wilman has revealed that he’s due to reconvene with Clarkson, Hammond and May this week, where they will begin the messy process of creating their own rival show for a competing broadcaster.
This is a golden opportunity because, in its final handful of years, Top Gear was getting decidedly long in the tooth. But this is ground zero. The new show is a blank page, and this is the perfect chance for them to cut out a lot of the rot that had infected their old series. As they’re almost definitely all Guardian readers, I’ve decided to provide Clarkson, Hammond, May and Wilman with a definitive guide to what the new show should – and should not – include.
No celebrity interviews
Without question, Star in a Reasonably Priced Car was the absolute nadir of every single Top Gear episode. Jeremy Clarkson can be a talented interviewer when his heart is in it, but increasingly the segment just became an excuse for him going “You had a Vauxhall?” at Olly Murs over and over again and then pulling a funny face. I’ve spent four years deliberately watching Top Gear on the iPlayer, just so I can skip this bit. Truly, Star in a Reasonably Priced Car was the token Jools Holland world-music act of Top Gear.
No news
Again, this segment has long since descended into flabby filler. Jeremy Clarkson says: “Here’s a new car. It’s a Volvo.” James May says: “It’s a vulva?” Richard Hammond says: “Aren’t vulvas funny? Ooh, vulvas.” Jeremy Clarkson says: “I dislike the government.” Idiots clap. The end. If this bit were left to die for the new show, nobody would cry. In fact, they should go one further …
No studio
All the worst bits of Top Gear – Star in a Reasonably Priced Car, the news, any bits where they write down times on bits of card, those toe-curling scripted arguments that ended each episode – took place in the Top Gear studio. The place became a noose that stopped it from evolving into anything more interesting. So, bin it. Set it on fire and get rid of it. Also, without a studio, we’d be spared the sight of the studio audience. This would be tremendous, because watching hundreds of sad-eyed middle-aged men – their Porsche patches hand-sewn on to their bomber jackets, forlornly going “Weeey” at nothing as they struggle to crane their heads over the women who always get shoved to the front row to promote the illusion of diversity – only served to remind me of the cruel inevitability of death.
Loads of films
With the exception of the one where they went to India, Top Gear’s travelogue specials are all worth watching. They tend to shove all the car-sy nonsense to the background, and allow the three hosts to genially muck about while gawping in awe at a succession of beautiful vistas. They were a delight and, at their best, they were full of heart. If the new series was comprised of nothing but four feature-length travelogues a year, I, for one, would watch the crap out of it. Unless they were a bit racist, in which case I’d watch it while feeling quite bad about myself.
A better stylist
Because, guys, seriously. I mean, seriously.
