Top Gear was once the Holy Grail of petrolhead TV. Three middle-aged blokes mucking about with cars, blowing things up, and occasionally getting behind the wheel of something worth more than most people’s life savings — what wasn’t to love? We were riveted. But in 2015, it all went sideways faster than James May attempting a drift. Clarkson went biff, the BBC went sniff, and the whole program drove itself off a metaphorical cliff.
Now, years later, James “Captain Slow” May has finally decided to weigh in on that punch that shattered the Top Gear universe, and in true fashion, it’s as understated as a beige Volvo from the 1980s.
Speaking in an exclusive sort-of interview with no one in particular (ok the Times of London), May casually noted:
“It wasn’t so much the punch itself, but more the stupidity of the situation. Imagine being in that position and thinking, ‘What this argument really needs is a knuckle sandwich.’ Classic Clarkson. It was as if he left his brain in the glovebox of a Bentley.”
He went on to lament the aftermath, describing it as “like watching a Ferrari hit a hedge – equal parts shocking and entertaining, but ultimately a massive waste.”
Jeremy Clarkson’s infamous “fracas” with a producer over the lack of steak sparked near-global pandemonium at the time, but May’s nonchalant take hints that the foundation of the show’s downfall may have been building long before. “I mean, really — who runs out of steak when hosting Top Gear? It’s practically fuel. That’s like running a car on Capri Sun.”
As for what May himself did in the heat of the moment? “I opened a bottle of wine. That’s what I do. Wine doesn’t punch people.” Wisely diplomatic, as usual.
Then there’s Hammond, AKA “The Hamster.” While May diplomatically sipped his wine, Hammond reportedly attempted to find a middle ground, though no one has any real clue what that could have been. According to May: “Hammond tried something heroic, as he tends to do, but it probably involved shouting and jumping on a table. He gets excitable when meals are late.”
When pressed if the famous trio misses their Top Gear days, May revealed a rare moment of introspection: “Of course. But then I think about all the times I had to sit in the back of some three-wheeled monstrosity Clarkson welded together, and suddenly the pain fades.”
In true Tarmac Life fashion, however, we’d like to end on a more positive note. May assured fans that, while Top Gear as they knew it may have ended via fist-to-chin diplomacy, the legacy lives on. Especially in their post-Top Gear projects like The Grand Tour, James May: Our Man in Japan, and whatever Clarkson’s doing these days on his farm (presumably still shouting at sheep).
“Life moves on,” May mused. “Sometimes, it stalls or drives through a mud puddle, but it moves on. And sometimes, it punches you in the face – metaphorically, of course.” Not metaphorically enough, James. Not metaphorically enough.
And there you have it, folks. A punch, a steak shortage, and the greatest motoring show on Earth sputtered out in the blaze of pub car park glory. Captain Slow may be slow, but his wit, as always, is anything but.
