Jeremy Clarkson in Gym Shock: Radioactive Pilates and Sniping Death Bullets!
Jeremy Clarkson, the man who once declared cycling a pastime for Lycra-clad lunatics and thought yoga was an awkward game of “try not to fart while looking at someone else’s bum,” has made a remarkable U-turn. Following a dramatic health scare last October, which saw him “days away” from death due to dangerously clogged arteries, Clarkson has finally parked the junk food, throttled his disdain for exercise, and joined the ranks of the stretching, panting populace… thanks to Pilates.
The outspoken ex-Top Gear host, a man famous for his love of steak and anything involving horsepower, underwent a life-saving two-hour heart surgery to have stents fitted. Doctors cheerfully informed him that without immediate action, his next headline might have been “Jeremy Clarkson Dies Mid-Staircase.” Since then, the 64-year-old (that’s 45 to his ego, but slightly older to his arteries) has been on a journey to “not die for as long as is humanly possible” so he can continue reveling in the joy of being a doting grandfather to two granddaughters, Arlo and Xanthe, aged two and a few months, respectively.
Clarkson hasn’t taken this health overhaul lightly. In true Jeremy style, he’s approached it with a mix of sarcasm, near-death epiphanies, and unabashed honesty. The cornerstone of his new fitness endeavor? Not a Peloton, not a treadmill, but—wait for it—a Pilates Reformer. Yes, the man who once called organized exercise “utter nonsense” is now strapped onto a contraption he describes as resembling a “sex dungeon table with handcuffs and a sliding top”.
Curiously enough, he’s loving it. His Pilates instructor (referred to amusingly as the “local girl”) has managed the unthinkable: making Clarkson laugh while he’s analyzing his “cockeyed pelvis that looks like a broken shotgun” and discovering the surprising joy of breathing through his nose for an hour straight. “I’m always surprised when I wake up with stiff legs the next morning,” he admits. “It’s proof I’ve done something, even though I feel like I haven’t”.
Clarkson’s journey to health hasn’t been without its missteps—or, as he calls them, “bloody disasters.” Walking? Useless. “Michelangelo’s David burns more calories standing still than I do on a two-mile walk,” he scoffs. Yoga? “Why would I want to spend an hour trying to yank my leg off while staring at someone’s arse?” Even a bespoke cage-like contraption bought by his partner Lisa Hogan—complete with bars and straps—sits collecting dust, mocked as “exercise equipment for the absurdly optimistic” .
But the Grand Tour host is making true progress. For a man who believed exercise was limited to moving between the car and the pub, Pilates has proven to be a game-changer. He’s even considering dabbling with Mounjaro, an Ozempic-like weight-loss drug, which he jokingly refers to as “Muntjac.” A medicine that helps shed pounds while sidestepping celery? Classic Clarkson logic.
Clarkson has taken to describing his precarious health situation as being stuck in “sniper’s alley,” dodging bullets from the reaper’s rifle with a mix of sarcasm and steely determination. “Buying time,” he says, “hurts and is expensive, but it’s better than wasting your money on a new watch.” For a man who has driven some of the fastest cars on the planet, time has suddenly become his most precious commodity. He credits his grandchildren as his greatest motivators, stating, “They’re so wonderful that I want to stick around for as long as I can. For once, it’s not steak or Ferraris keeping me alive—it’s them” .
It’s unclear how long Clarkson will keep up this newfound lifestyle. He’s hardly one to abandon his car-loving, meat-devouring ways entirely. But if Pilates Reformers and the soothing happiness of being a grandad can keep “JC” dodging death’s sniper bullets for a while longer, we’ll gladly raise a pint of Hawkstone Lager in his honor (though perhaps not too many—it plays havoc with your cholesterol).
Long may Clarkson wobble, stretch, and reform. After all, the headline “Clarkson Defeats Death: Pilates Saves Motormouth” is far more exciting than the alternative.
