We tuned into Top Gear (BBC2, Sun) for the first time ever this week.
Talk about perfect timing!
Jeremy Clarkson’s joke about lorry drivers murdering prostitutes has become the latest must-have thing for viewers to be very offended about, apparently.
Although, we have to confess, when we watched the show we weren’t outraged or offended in the slightest.
Baffled, yes. At what the heck the aging buffoon was on about.
But not offended.
And certainly not moved enough to go finding the number for the BBC... or is it Ofcom?... or Crimewatch? Indeed, how does everyone in the world seem to know who to ring in such circumstances? We wouldn’t have a blinking clue.
Anyway, back to our review.
Everyone has been telling us how great Top Gear is and how you don’t need to be interested in cars and you don’t even need to be a bloke to watch it these days.
So we tuned in eagerly expecting our sides to split with mirth. Didn’t quite work out, unfortunately.
Most of the show is filmed in some disused aircraft hangar in the middle of nowhere.
And an audience of fans is evidently shipped in every week to stand around looking like plonkers staring at Clarkson and his mates talking about cars.
You can tell Clarkson knows a lot about cars because he pronounces Volkswagen "Vokes Vaggon." Impressive.
And he tests drives Lamborghinis that cost half a million quid. So he must be good.
Trouble is, most of this particular episode was spent watching Clarkson, Richard Hammond and James May mucking about with lorries.
Racing them. Crashing them into walls. Seeing if they could set them on fire. You know, really important things like that.
For a minute, we thought we’d tuned into the wrong show and were actually watching the three old geezers in Last of the Summer Wine getting up to their usual comic capers.
Is that all they do in this show then? Is that what all the fuss is about?
To be honest, we found the whole pathetic routine very embarrassing.
Maybe we should ring someone up to complain on the presenters’ behalf...
Wonderment of the week:
How many bars of Fruit and Nut would fit into the boot of a Skoda Fabia?
Maybe Clarkson and co should try that one. Norris keeps us entertained with his musings on Coronation Street.
How many bars of Fruit and Nut would fit into the boot of a Skoda Fabia?
Maybe Clarkson and co should try that one. Norris keeps us entertained with his musings on Coronation Street.
Oddest explanation:
"The teacher in me just took over..."
John Stape from Coronation Street struggles with a plausible explanation for kidnapping Rosie Webster and holding her hostage in his granny’s attic for five weeks.
"The teacher in me just took over..."
John Stape from Coronation Street struggles with a plausible explanation for kidnapping Rosie Webster and holding her hostage in his granny’s attic for five weeks.
D'oh of the week:
"Stop sending me messages about the weather, I’m trying to work."
An irritable wireless operator onboard The Titanic annoys counterparts on nearby ship The Californian with a rude message. So much so, the other ship - which was just two hours away - turned its equipment off for the night. Oops.
The Unsinkable Titanic (C4, Mon)
"Stop sending me messages about the weather, I’m trying to work."
An irritable wireless operator onboard The Titanic annoys counterparts on nearby ship The Californian with a rude message. So much so, the other ship - which was just two hours away - turned its equipment off for the night. Oops.
The Unsinkable Titanic (C4, Mon)
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