Thanks, everybody, thank you.
Hello, good evening.
Thank you so much.
We're back!
We have returned.
We've returned with an all-new series, and it is a cracker.
We have got a review of the Mk7 Volkswagen Golf,
we've an extended report of the 900cc Dacia Sandero,
James has done that. It's very long.
We've a piece on bicycles, we've something on the stresses
of long-distance lorry driving...
..and the rest of it sort of looks like this.
They should have called this the Widowmaker!
Come on, little Alfa.
We have to beat him.
You want a race? I'll give you a race!
Oh, God. My doves have escaped.
Arrrrrgh!
Just have my heated seat set to the first position.
Morning. Sorry.
The town in question is called...
Chernobyl.
Whoa! Ha-ha-ha!
Goooahhh!
'Newsnight now, on BBC TWO...'
All that is to come.
But first, there has been, I'm afraid, a bit of a row in the office.
You see, we think that the current crop of hot hatchbacks are very good,
however, we say they're not as good as the hot hatchbacks
you could buy in the '80s or the '90s.
Well, they're not, are they? No, exactly, but our producers, who are very young
and wander around with the top of their underpants
showing at the back of their trousers,
say that we are talking nonsense.
Yeah, so, to sort it all out, they told us to go and buy
three old hot hatches, whilst they would devise
a series of humiliating challenges.
Hmm! Hmm!
The meeting point was a car park in Droitwich,
and I was the first to arrive.
This is a Volkswagen Golf GTI -
the standard-bearer, the benchmark, the daddy...
And think about it - a modern-day GTI would cost you £27,000.
This was just 800 quid. I mean, 800 quid! For a Golf GTI!
It's only done 172,000 miles, and at just 25 years old it's...
Oh, there's James!
Oh, God. That was a handbrake turn, right there, ladies and gentlemen.
Yo!
XR2!
XR2i, 16 valve.
16 valve? Oh, yes.
See, I've gone for the coveted Mk2 eight-valve model.
Eight valve? Eight valve.
What?
Oh, the comedy stickers.
The thing is, James, what you have to remember is,
you know when you look at a car,
how has it been treated? Who's owned it?
I looked at these stickers,
the non-standard alloy wheels,
and I suspect this has been slammed.
It does look like it's been slammed. It's been lowered.
So you add those things together,
and I've deduced it was probably owned by...a parish priest?
June Whitfield, probably. It's funny you should say that,
because I employ a similar tactic when I'm buying a car, so I looked
at things like - it has very high-specification after-market
brake pads. Has it? Which means it was somebody
interested in safety, not speed. Yes. And also,
they've done things like left the jacking point exposed,
so you spend less time exposed to danger if you have to change
your wheel on the hard shoulder. Exactly.
800 quid. 750 quid.
You see, we've been clever, we have been wise.
Sadly, our discussion was curtailed,
because Hammond then arrived.
And he hadn't been wise at all.
Is that...?
No. No. No.
Nova SRi. No. This is fun, isn't it? I'm loving my day so far.
Let me talk you through it - 1.4-litre multi-point fuel injection,
82 brake horsepower. Uh-huh.
This is light, and nippy and quick.
This was the clever choice in its day. Was it? Yeah. It was.
Hammond... I love... Hammond, Hammond, Hammond, Hammond.
Yeah? This has spent more time on its roof than it has on its wheels.
All Novas are driven by yobbos who turn them over.
I must admit... Because it's not just this door that doesn't match.
That one was white.
I don't think there's a ditch in Essex that this hasn't visited.
But it's still working. These are very desirable. Are they?
How much was it? 700 quid.
Not that anyone ever actually had to buy a Vauxhall Nova -
it was much easier to steal one.
Nobody's to watch this if you're a car thief. Don't watch this.
You have the keys. I have the keys.
I'm going to remove the hazard warning light switch, OK?
Yep. I'm now going to pop it back in again, upside down.
And lo and behold, the ignition comes on.
Now it's just a question of, um... Bump-start.
Go!
And there we are.
And I've got the key!
'As I was finishing my demonstration,
'I received a message.'
I've got a text. Oh, it's from the producers. Eh?
Yeah, it's the first of the challenges.
What happened to the gold envelope?
He's a teenager.
That would mean using a pen.
Oh, he wouldn't have seen one of those. No, he wouldn't. Anyway...
Hang on. I don't know what it says. Because you need your glasses?
Oh, dear. I'm old!
It says, "The main reason for buying a hot hatchback is speed.
"You will therefore do a performance test at the Shelsley Walsh Hill Climb
"in your crocks of ship."
Ship?
Ship. I think there's been some auto-correction. Yes.
Right... Soldier on.
Oh, bloody hell.
Have you got an alarm?
1989? They didn't have alarms, so everybody put after-market alarms
on them, which don't work. Ever.
Oh, shut up!
I'd like to be laughing about them and their alarms,
but I've just spotted something which is...
Well, everything got stolen in the '80s,
so they'd engrave the reg number on the glass, and on the tailgate,
I can't help but notice that this registration number
isn't the same as this registration number,
which means it's not the original tailgate.
I thought that was the only original panel on it.
On the drive to the Hill Climb,
we have the chance to get acquainted with our cars.
Oh, I love my little Nova. It's all about simplicity, lightness.
This has nothing on it that you don't need.
Door mirrors, manual. Windows, manual.
There isn't even a window winder on the passenger side,
because it's dropped off. How simple and light is that?
Since we're alone, viewers, and it's traditional for me to be honest
at this point, I will say that the car feels a little careworn.
The driver's seat smells funny, the fuel gauge doesn't work
all the time, and neither does the temperature gauge.
The radio only comes out of one speaker.
The clutch judders. The wheels wobble.
There are a lot of knocks and rattles.
Amazing, really, because it's only done 23,000 miles.
Let me do a systems check and make sure all the equipment is working.
Heated rear window, yep.
Ashtray, yep.
Good, that's that done.
Third gear.
That G-force is nearly tearing my face off!
We were so brave in the '80s.
We were brave and we were strong, because we had no power steering.
We didn't go to a gym - we just went for a drive.
That would build up a sweat.
Many power-steering-less miles later...
God, I stink.
..we arrived at the terrifying Shelsley Walsh Hill Climb.
Germany has the Nurburgring, America has Pikes Peak - we have this.
It's more than half a mile long, and at the bottom of this fearsome
ribbon of tarmac, we were given more details of our challenge.
"A modern Seat Ibiza Cupre
"will now go up the Hill Climb course,
"then you must try to beat its time."
Seat Cupre? Yeah. That's fast, is it?
Hang on, who's going to be driving the Seat?
It's not the Stig, is it? No. No, it's not the Stig.
It's the Stig's teenage cousin.
Look at the size of it! I know. It's a whale.
Might as well try and drive up there in that barn.
With the traditional Hill Climb chock holding the Seat in place,
Teenage Stig was ready for the off.
Go!
What a dreary spectacle.
Doesn't have that nimble, light,
tight, frenzied feel of a proper hot hatch.
Ohh...
'The Stig's teenage cousin did it in 40.50.'
What, to do 0.6 of a mile? I shall halve it.
As the Golf had the most power, we agreed it should go first.
Hold on, I'm just going to shut my window.
There it is.
Three, two, one.
That was all wheel-spin. That's already quicker, look at that.
Double declutch into second. A pheasant!
Ooh! That was close.
Yeah!
112 of the finest German horsepower hurling me up this hill.
60mph as we cross the line.
Uhh-uhh!
Next it was James' turn, in the XR2.
Three, two, one, go!
You bastard!
Nice start(!)
At speed, the XR2's 20-year-old steering really came into its own.
Oh, God.
He's bought a dog. He has bought an appalling dog.
Whoa.
This is terrible.
More worryingly, on the way back down, a marshal handed me back
some of my car.
That is a bolt, obviously.
But for what?
As I pondered on that,
Jeremy prepared the course for Hammond's Nova.
Hammond. I have never seen a man suit a car more than that.
Three, two, one!
Ah-ha-ha!
That's some wheel-spin.
There are some people who look like their dogs. There are one or two
people who look like their cars, and, yeah... Little... Nova drivers.
Everything, now. Come on, unleash the lot.
Across the line!
And now, back down!
Oh, yeah.
Predictably, Hammond had binned it.
Oh, my God. No!
How the hell did you get it there?
Well, I was coming down here, and... Oh, hang on, it's...
You have righted it. You have righted it.
Look, he's actually beaming because you stuffed your...
Well, you can tell your mates, can't you? In the ditch.
And it's a complete roll now.
Cos this was the thing in the '80s - you put your car in a ditch,
and you did, and you found it funny.
Do you realise if Constable had lived today, he would have
painted that. It would have been called the HEY, WAYNE.
Very good.
As the marshals recovered the Nova, we were given the results.
What was the Stig? 40... 40.5. Right. I was...
..47.4.
May, perhaps not surprisingly, 50.4.
Right.
Hammond...
46.3.
So you were the fastest, and I congratulate you. Thank you.
But the point is, we were all slower than the Stig, and yet we weren't.
Mm-hm. Hang on. How do you make that out?
Time moved more slowly in the '80s.
Because when you're 30, a year is a 30th of your life.
When you're 50, it's a 50th of your life.
'By the time Hammond had got this one worked out...
'..darkness had fallen.'
So what have we learned? Well, obviously we've learned
that our cars are much cheaper than their modern-day equivalent,
and in real terms faster.
But I think we'd all agree that they are looking a little bit...tired.
So we decided to spruce them up at the top-secret
Top Gear Antique Restoration Centre,
on the A451, just outside Kidderminster.
Here, cars are wrapped in a special self-adhesive material
to give them a brand-new factory-fresh look.
If you pay somebody else to respray your car...
£5,000, £10,000. Easily.
This is less than 1,000.
You know, pull the right bit off there, job done.
With the Renault done, we decided to do our cars ourselves.
OK, well... We'll see how we get on with that later on.
But now, it's time to do the news.
Now, BMW has made a three-cylinder hybrid.
Would you like to see a photograph? Well, no, not really, no.
Well, that's a rotten bit of luck cos here it is.
Wow, is that it? Yeah, three-cylinder hybrid, right there.
It looks quite good.
Is it vaguely reminiscent of the old M1? Remember the supercar they did?
What it is, I'll tell you exactly what it is, that is the future.
It really genuinely is.
It's lightweight construction, petrol engine,
working in tandem with an electric motor.
I know that sounds dreary, but think about it,
it's the exact same recipe you get in a McLaren P1,
and that is not dreary at all.
No, and more to the point, you've driven it, it's on the show next week. Yes.
Well, Come on, give us a hint, what's it like?
It is genuinely unbelievable. The speed simply is mind-blowing.
How fast? Beyond...
You can't keep up with just how fast it goes, that P1,
and because of the P1,
it means normal people can now drive a hybrid.
You don't have to wear nuclear-free peace sandals,
you can be like normal people here and have a hybrid.
That's why I think that is going to be brilliant.
The thing is, it will go like a 911, cost about the same,
but you don't have to be a moron to drive one.
Child! You child! Like James and Richard both have 911s.
Really? We're back at work, aren't we?
We are back in the playground, yeah.
I'd like to talk about things I'm sorry I missed
while we've been off air.
Plans are being drawn up, right, to fine the owner of a car,
if a passenger throws litter out of the window.
Fine him? The owner...
Oh, throw him to the dogs. Well, no...
Use the Kim Jong-un technique on people who litter.
No, I know what you mean, cos littering is the most moronic crime.
It's pitiful, however, thanks to this there is now an excuse for it.
An excuse for littering? Yeah. What?
Think about it, James, mate... Yes?
..can I have a lift home tonight in your car?
Just me and, like, my favourite bin bag full of empty crisp packets.
I was once riding my motorcycle past a line of stationary cars
and I was hit in the face by half a ready meal that had been thrown out of a window...
I mean, still hot. That was me!
Was it? Yeah, and it wasn't a ready meal!
No.
It was an adult nappy!
Anyway, we've had the Formula One testing all last week,
as I'm sure you know.
Important this year, the testing, cos there's so many new rules.
The cars have to have 1.6 litre engines, narrower wings
and sex aids on the front.
Don't be stupid, they don't have to... They do!
Hello? Have a look at this at Caterham.
That's a sex aid on the front! Oh, no! What are they...?
We've got a close-up on the Toro Rosso.
Oh, God! You wouldn't want to be rear-ended by that, would you?
Cos if you think of it, you get in the car,
strap yourself in and there it is.
It is a strap-on, basically.
Formula "strap" One! Formula "strap" One!
Formula "strap" One is what it is!
Right, here's a scenario. You're racing towards the finish line,
neck and neck, you want to cross the line first.
It's good if you could extend the front a bit... Yeah.
..and maybe if you were, I don't know, let's say,
having trouble extending the bit at the front,
they could have a little blue triangular button on the steering wheel that you could press.
V Power! Yes!
There it is! For about an hour and a half...it's longer!
I'm just saying.
You don't get coverage like that in Autosport magazine. Oh, yeah.
Now, are you always late for your game of golf?
Are you sick of being the last to the lodge? Well, it's good news!
Is it another Dacia?
It's not a Dacia...
There is a new 450-brake horsepower Lexus called the RCF.
Here it is, what do you think?
I hate to have to say this, James, but I actually quite like it.
I'm glad, cos I quite like it as well.
Oh, God, I'm going to catch golf from you two! Ugh!
I'm going to turn up next week like that. Hang on a minute, though.
This is the second Lexus you've liked. It is, you're a Lexus fan.
There you go.
And then, I'm going to join the police as a constable
and become a chief inspector within a week
with me trouser leg rolled up and one of those.
Oh, it was the Masons! I thought that was a sexual thing!
Ooh, I tell you what I was driving the other day,
the new Mercedes S-Class which is available
with a thermal imaging camera, OK,
which sends a feed from the front of the car onto the dashboard,
so you can see what's ahead at night,
beyond the range of your headlights. We've got some footage of it here.
So as you're driving along,
the camera can see animals, there you go,
and it picks them out in red, or people.
As it's going along there is an animal, you see?
That's clever. A bit of a gimmick, though, isn't it? You wouldn't rely on it.
You say that, James, but I was coming back to my flat in London
the other night, it was quite late, in the S-Class with that turned on.
As I was going up, it picked out a red box in some bushes,
just outside my front door.
I drove up, I thought,
"What on earth is that at this time of the morning?"
Drove up, when the headlines got there, paparazzi photographer.
So it can find paps hiding in the dark? Yeah, but there's a problem.
Because when I tried to run him down...
As you get near, it automatically applies the brakes.
What's the point of targeting somebody, if you can't hit them?
They haven't thought that through.
Back to the drawing board with that, please, Mercedes.
Now, obviously the biggest news while we were off air
was the tragic accident that Michael Schumacher had.
I don't know if any of his family are watching, but I'm sure everybody
here would join with us to wish him a full and speedy recovery.
Absolutely.
Come on, old fella, pull through. Yeah.
Now...
Tonight we are attempting to prove to our teenage producers that the
hot hatches of our youth were better than the hot hatches of today.
Yes, and when we left the action we were at the Top Gear Restoration
Technical Centre, where we decided to wrap our cars ourselves.
Because Hammond's car was the smallest, he finished first.
The results of my labours. Urban camo.
Or it might be Arctic urban camo.
Yeah, there's a rough edge here and there, but for a first attempt
I think it's pretty crisp...
Behold the genius! What?
Hello. Mate, it's...
I haven't seen it in the light, it's terrible! How brilliant is this?
What you're looking at here is velvet. Why didn't you DRIVE it out?
Because I suspect James May, as a cruel joke, has hidden my keys.
Actually, no. I suspect you've effectively hidden your keys
because I suspect that's them there, look.
You left them on the roof.
And while I'm here, isn't there a sunroof on this car?
Yes, here. Well, you can't open it, or this door.
Or in fact, this door. Burglar-proof.
As Jeremy retrieved his keys, James appeared.
He hasn't got the idea of wrapping, has he? No.
Come on! It's a bit annual, mate.
That's exactly it. It's seasonal. It is unequivocal, is what it is.
If you park that by the side of the road,
and say to anyone, "What's happened to that car?"
and they will say it, "Oh, it's been wrapped."
Hang on, a text.
"Dear grandad..." Ooh! Really? Thank you.
"Because 1980s hot hatchbacks were so easy to steal,
"they were mostly used for doing handbrake turns on housing estates
"and ram raiding Woolworths.
"So, to see which one of your ridiculous cars..." Superb cars.
"..is best, you will have a game of Supermarket Sweep."
The rules were simple.
The producers had laid out a course around the aisles of a supermarket
and we had to see which of our cars could get around it the fastest.
Right, James, you are going first.
Just so you know, there is a second added to your time for every
£1 of damage that you do out there.
Right. OK? OK.
This is going to be like living in the 1980s.
Three, two, one, go!
Obviously, I am the intelligent one here
and the point of this is to not hit anything, not to go around quickly.
He's neat. Isn't he?
A second is more easily saved by not breaking something
than by driving into things.
Through the chicane...
Missing that, missing that, missing everything.
Oh, his wheel got jammed up with... spam! Spam!
Briskly around there...
And through to the finish.
How did I do? One minute and two, but you did hit things, James.
After the value of the smashed custard creams
and the splattered Spam had been totted up,
I took my place on the start line.
Good.
Yes! Three, two, one, go!
That's a vigorous start.
Here we go!
And into the turn.
It's a bad crash! Oh, no!
That's a couple of seconds off there. Yeah, I'd say so.
Things have gone literally...
I've hit the luxury toiletries!
And some bread.
Yes, I've just hit some... Oh.
Oh, no! I've got Rich Tea biscuits, literally everywhere.
Oh, God above.
Well, it is a quick time now, but it possibly won't be
once we've added on... the destruction!
I've gone again.
In the plums!
He's on the finishing straight.
And...across the line!
It took a very long time to work out Jeremy's score.
But eventually, it was my go.
Let's do this.
What do you think he's going to do? Your style, or my style?
Well, if he's got any sense he'll do mine,
but he hasn't got any sense cos he's Hammond, so...
Go! Come on, little Nova, here we go.
Oh, dear. Oh, that's...
Gee, that was enormous!
What manner of thing did he do?
Run away!
Here he comes.
And across the line!
Well, that's predictable. Oh, 1:04.
That completed the supermarket challenge.
All we had to do now was help Hammond right his car.
..Three... Maybe another one?
Come on!
The next morning, as we set off to Wales for our next challenge,
all was not well in our convoy.
A packet of Coco Pops had severed the fuel line in Hammond's Nova.
And one of the many crashes had damaged Jeremy's Golf.
Oh, God, no, this steering...
There's something catastrophically wrong. Look at it!
I can't... Oh! Um, gentlemen, I may have to stop.
A couple of miles further on,
I found an empty airfield where I could do some repairs.
Yes, the handling characteristics were affected by a small accident
last night with some beef stew.
Oh, dear. I hit the bottom of the wheel and it's gone in. But you can solve it.
Yes, I've seen that done. Most F1 teams do something similar(!)
Is your car working yet, Hammond?
I've got to put a new fuel pipe on, it'll take me a second.
I've got one more jubilee clip to do and it'll be done.
What? Text, which could mean it is from the producers.
Ah, the results of Supermarket Sweep are in. Oh, brilliant.
James - one minute and five seconds. Three quid's worth of damage?
Three seconds added, three quid's worth of damaged produce.
Richard. Yes?
Two minutes and 12 seconds. That's 60-something quid's worth.
You got a minute and eight seconds, yeah, you got £68 worth of damage.
Jeremy Clarkson. Yes?
28 minutes and six seconds.
Don't be stupid! Oh, you didn't quite make the half hour!
It's rubbish, anyway, because in the '80s I did not ram raid shops.
I had much better things to do with my cars. What?
I can't tell you now. Why not? The producers.
What? What I'm going to do, Hammond, you can't do in front of
BBC health and safety people.
Eventually the producers went to get something to eat
and with the cars mended, I began my demonstration.
Right, this is called Lap Of Your Own Car.
I'm going to climb out of the window, over the roof,
through the passenger window
and back behind the wheel before the car stops.
But you're the driver. Yes.
Right! Are we ready? I'm going to pop it into neutral. Here we go.
Oh, my God. I think this is what George Michael was trying to do.
Small steering input. I've got it. Oh, my God. It doesn't really steer.
I'm out! He is out of the car.
I'm actually on the roof of a moving vehicle.
I am doing a lap now. Here he comes, ladies and gentlemen.
Here he is, coming in.
Tell you what, velvet's good, you get better traction.
Genuinely staggered. It worked! Yes!
This success sent us on a journey down memory lane.
Yeah! Two silver trays underneath the rear wheels, handbrake on,
the best game in the world.
Musical chairs, let it begin.
Right, you're now steering.
I'm in the driver's seat! Your hair!
Get off!
Your bottom is touching my sausage!
May, go back. Go, go, go!
The '80s were brilliant.
They were better. Just much better. Music was better.
Everything was better. Oh, yeah.
We then rounded off our Don't Try This At Home nostalgia trip
with a traditional drag race.
Three, two, one, go!
The mighty Golf GTi. Come on, Nova. Come on, come on!
No, he's getting away!
What's... Oh!
A total victory.
What's happened to Hammond?
What had happened to Hammond was not good.
Still there. Perhaps it's not used to being the right way up.
It's fine. It's fine.
Oh, that's good as well. Fine.
You've knackered that. You've totalled your Nova.
It's fine.
Hammond... No, what?! Hammond...
Would you like to tell the ladies and gentlemen
what happened to your Nova?
It just blew up. Did it? Boom!
Or did you change into first rather than third?
Well, I did do that a bit. Exactly.
Never mind that, because the producers are very cross with us
about our little trip down memory lane.
They say that it might make young people copy us.
I don't see why, it's not like they've ever copied anything else we do, is it?
No, you never hear kids in the barber's say, "Can I have hair like James May's?"
It was a montage of stuff
that was acceptable in the '80s that isn't acceptable now.
Like wearing white socks. Exactly.
Or saying to a female co-worker, "You look nice today."
Exactly. You can't do that any more.
Anyway, we must move on, because I want to talk about
one of the most evocative words in motoring.
Bonneville. Team it with "Triumph", it's a legendary motorcycle.
Team it with "salt flats", it's a shrine to the pursuit of speed.
Team it with "Hugh" and it's... neither of those things.
But it is tonight's Star in a Reasonably Priced Car.
From Downton Abbey, his favourite TV show, Hugh Bonneville!
Hello! How are you?
He's here!
He's here. Have a seat. Thank you.
Richard Hammond is beside himself with excitement.
Downton, he's obsessed.
I want to begin, if I may, talking about your early life, early cars.
Despite your legendary name, it doesn't seem like
you come from a family of speed freaks.
No, the Bonneville salt flats don't feature in my pedigree.
We were a family of Volvos, when I was growing up.
Starting with a 121, a roundy shape, number plate NUV665E.
For some reason, I can remember that number plate,
but I can't remember my own now.
That's a weird thing. I was talking to James about this the other day.
We can remember the number plates of our fathers' cars.
JWY370J, DW510H on the Cortina 1600E.
FYR495J on the Volvo 124.
So you can remember all your dad's Volvos? Yeah, it's tragic, really.
They were 1 Series Volvos, so very early ones.
The weird thing about the first one, the NUV665E,
was that my dad regretted selling it,
and he was at a zebra crossing near where we lived in Blackheath
and suddenly he spotted it about five years later
and flagged down the driver and said,
"If ever you want to sell it, it was the biggest mistake of my life."
Later, the bloke got in touch
and it was in the family for the next ten years.
On the subject of family, why did you try to bury your sister
when she was still perfectly healthy?
I can't believe you've asked me that question. That's quite embarrassing.
Well, she'd been quite annoying.
I was about eight and she was 16, I think.
I complained to Mum,
and she was cooking supper and said, "Yes, that must be annoying."
I said, "I'm going to kill her, but first I'm going to dig a grave."
And she said, "Yes, dear, dinner will be in half an hour."
I got a shovel and I started digging,
I measured it out, six foot long and that wide...
I got about three inches
and the weird thing was, Magpie were filming in our street.
They were doing a programme about rag-and-bone men.
My mum ran out to say, "We've got an old tin bath,"
so they said, "Can we film coming round the back of the house?"
to where the tin bath was, and the cameraman fell in the grave!
I hasten to add, I love my sister.
Yeah! Tried to kill her.
I once tried to kill my sister when she put a drawing pin
through my space hopper.
Ooh! Bitch!
You heard that, Joanna. Lord Grantham just called you a bitch.
Did you have a flirtation with Triumphs as a family?
I always coveted my aunt's Triumph Stag,
which was a beautiful car, and the selfish cow sold it
rather than give it to me for free.
A Stag. You'd suit a Stag. A Stag.
You don't actually drive a two-seater sports car
from what I understand?
No, I don't. I currently have an XC90, a Volvo XC90. A fine car.
I bought it off a friend ten years ago and it has served us very well.
But going to go to an Audi Q5.
Is that really Snoozeville?
That's like forsaking all food
and saying, "I'm going to live for the rest of my life
"on nothing but wallpaper paste."
It's an appalling... Jeremy! What?
Stop talking to him about cars.
Hammond... Never, you're always having a cup of tea.
What? Stop talking to him about cars. Why?
Because he's from Downton Abbey.
He's Lord Grantham, over there. I know! He's looking at me!
Ask him my question. What question? Who's Lady Mary going to marry?
Which one? Who is Lady Mary going to marry?
I have no idea. I'm sorry, Richard, I don't know.
Of course he knows! He's Lord Grantham!
Hammond, he's not here to talk about Downton,
you're here to talk about your new film.
Exactly. Go away! Back in your box! Go away!
Anyway, the new film, The Monuments Men, what is it about?
It is based on the true story of these rather unsung heroes
of the Second World War, who were art historians and museum curators
who were sent in after D-day, largely, to try and locate the art
and treasures that the Nazis were spiriting away,
and also to persuade the Allies not to blow up that particular church
because there are Germans in it,
because it does contain part of our culture.
Really? And that's a true story? It's based on a true story.
We've got a clip. Ooh! I've not seen anything of it.
Well, you can have a look at yourself on telly. Look, here we go.
And finally, we have your sculptor, Sergeant Walter Garfield.
He's a good egg. I worked with him on the World War I memorial in St Louis.
A-ha! St Louis...
How are you, old boy? Hey, Walter, how they treating you?
Taking it pretty easy on us.
I think that they feel sorry for us old guys.
I don't much fancy an obstacle course. It's not so bad.
By the end, you're just crawling on your belly
while teenagers shoot blanks over your head.
Well, yes and no. How's that?
Yes, they are teenagers. And no? They're not blanks.
Looks like my sort of film. That is my sort of film.
Now, George Clooney. He directed it as well, didn't he?
George directed it, he stars in it, he produced it and he co-wrote it.
I've been wondering, looking at what you're doing at the moment,
is how on earth you are fitting it in,
because you're also working on W1A.
Yes, W1A is a spin-off of a show I did called Twenty Twelve.
Which was fabulous. Thank you very much. I properly loved that.
It was a mockumentary about trying to organise the Olympics.
Obviously, my character made such a success of organising the Olympics,
I'm the go-to man to sort out corporate issues.
So what better place than to go into the BBC?
When I heard that this was happening,
and I can see all the location signs around the BBC buildings
where you are filming it, I was thinking,
how do you make fiction about BBC management
funnier than what actually happens?
Broadcasting House, the new big building on Regent Street,
Portland Place, you're not allowed in there
even if you're BBC staff unless you've been on a half-hour
health and safety course on how to operate the building.
I started the course.
A lady with an eight-page document arrived to talk me through it.
Page one was a picture of a fire alarm, red fire alarm box.
It said, "This is a fire alarm."
Page two, a graphic of a green sign with a man running like this
with the word "exit". "That's an emergency exit."
At that point, I was taken off to do some filming.
I still haven't... You haven't completed the course?
I still haven't. I still have to be escorted around Broadcasting House
in case I'm confused by a light fitting!
Or something of that nature. It is stupid.
I'm longing to see something that satirises it,
but again, how are you doing it? You must be the world's busiest man.
Presumably you drove very quickly around the lap,
so you could get home more quickly?
No, I'm not a speed merchant.
At the beginning, when The Stig took me around,
I was really terrified, being in the passenger seat,
and I thought, "I'll never be able to do this."
By the end, as your guys will tell you,
I refused to get out, I wanted to go again and again.
Who here would like to see the lap?
Yes!
Play the tape, let's have a look.
The car, fresh after its long rest.
Come on, son!
Look at the lines, streaming down.
That is wet, really is pouring down, and that's odd for England(!)
If you're watching abroad, it's never normally like that here.
Where's the white line? Oh, there.
You may laugh, but it is quite tricky to see the line
when the track is soaking wet.
It's really steamy.
Hmm?
You need to get that sort of thing sorted out before you set off.
Even though the lines are invisible from behind the wheel,
you've done a pretty good job. That's not bad.
Woohoo! Perfectly judged.
Must remember to get some milk.
Worse than Kimi Raikkonen for not paying attention,
but no worries through there at all.
Tyres, speedy, moving them about nicely.
Oh, that is quick!
On the wrong side of the road there, but never mind.
It's nicely done, and you haven't gone off on the second to last corner.
Gambon, a bit of understeer. That car grips well.
And there we are. Across the line!
Now, ha-ha!
Just realised that's the first ever wet lap we've had in that car.
Nobody else has driven around in the rain.
Bearing that in mind, where do you think you've come?
Well, I suspect...between Ron Howard and Steven Tyler,
bearing in mind it's wet.
Somewhere between 1.50 and 1.51 is what you think you've done.
Well, you did it in...
1.50.1.
Which means you're the first guest ever to guess correctly...
Wait, wait, wait!
You just put Steven Tyler... I'll cross it out, wrong.
A very professional show. There, look, correct!
To be brutally honest with you, The Stig did say
that you have a natural talent
and if it had been dry you would have been very close to the top.
Well, that's an accolade then. It is.
I'll go away happy, thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much, Hugh Bonneville!
Thank you.
Right, tonight the boys and girls who produce Top Gear
are on a mission to prove that the hot hatchbacks of our era
were rubbish. Yeah. Things are not going well for me,
cos I've slightly damaged the engine... Ruined.
Slightly damaged. Whatever... Damaged the engine in my Nova and it's
on the back of a tow truck. But despite this we had been told
to report to somewhere we couldn't pronounce...
in Wales.
Having crossed the Severn Estuary we soon arrived at the location.
Trefniadaeth Seilwaith Amddiffyn
Man Hyfforddi Caerwent.
And here on this huge, abandoned army base crisscrossed
with more than 30 miles of deserted roads,
we received the details of our challenge.
Oh, hello. Why is it an envelope and not a text this time?
That's a good point. We're in Wales - no signal.
Ahh! Yeah! We're back to the old ways.
Come on then, what is it?
"Because the drivers of '80s hatchbacks were irresponsible
"and stupid they were often chased by the 50."
Er, James, it means the 5-0, as in Hawaii 5-0, it's the police.
Yeah, whatever. Well, anyway. The 50!
Anyway... "You will now go head-to-head with
"the Top Gear Police Department. Each of you will take it in turns
"to drive your own car while the other two will use
"a selection of police vehicles to try and stop you."
That sounds quite good. It does sound good.
Tell you what, Hammond, you go first.
Erm, good, yes.
I might need a minute.
While Hammond mended his car,
James and I broke out the TGPD pursuit vehicles
and slipped into our police uniforms.
OK, Hammond, are you ready?
Yes, I am. This is going to be good. In 3, 2, 1...
start the clock.
We are off.
Yep, it's just warming up.
Here we go...
Ha-ha!
Excuse me, sir, my moustache would like a word with you,
if you'd like to step out of the vehicle. You're nicked, sunshine.
What did I do? How long? Eight seconds.
Do you know, another fault...
Did it? Very similar. Did it?
It manifested itself similarly to the last one that one I repaired.
Tell that to the judge... Yes...sunshine. Right.
Jeremy then put on the yobbo outfit
and lined up his velvet Golf on the start line.
3, 2, 1...begin...
And there we are, eight seconds. I've already beaten Hammond.
He's getting away, constable!
Yes. Live with this...!
You see, what we're learning straight away is that
a modern police Astra is no match for a 1980s hot hatchback.
And it wasn't just the Astras that were causing problems.
Recent figures say that in London
12 police cars are crashed every day.
And the reason is, it's because they are driving in high-energy
difficult situations while under the influence of the moustache.
Got a moustache, got a moustache, got a moustache.
Oh, he's lost it!
Totally distracted by his face decoration.
MUSIC: "Miami Vice Theme" by Jan Hammer
With the Astras unable to close the gap...
Come on!
..the chase went on...
..and on...
and on...
The next morning, the weather had become extremely Welsh.
But still, the Golf was uncaught.
This isn't working, sir.
No, I agree, I think we're going to have to break out
the Top Gear Police Department magnetron of justice.
If anything could stop the miscreant, it was this.
A giant crane with a seven-kilowatt magnet suspended from its arm.
A machine that could render any vehicle immobile in moments.
Right, let's go get him.
Soon, the trap was set.
Mmm, what's this...?
Arming magnet.
Here he comes...
Blithering idiots. Do they not realise you can't use a magnet
to pick up velvet?
There was only one thing for it -
unleash the TGPD remote-controlled car of death.
Target vehicle identified and located.
Where the hell are they?
How can this be a police chase when they aren't chasing me any more?
Target acquired...
Sir, you might want to put your fingers in your ears.
I don't know where those two are or what they're plotting
but it won't work.
This car is simply...
invincib...
Bigger than I was expecting, constable.
Yes, sir, it was, sir.
So, it turns out that velvet is impervious to magnets,
but it IS pervious to dynamite.
Nevertheless, I felt confident that James would not be able
to beat my evasion time of 14 hours and 22 minutes.
In...3, 2, 1...
start the clock.
However, as he set off it became clear he'd come up
with an unusual plan...
What is he doing?
Now, the thing is, viewers, whenever you watch Police Camera Action
or see a real police chase, the person trying to get away is always
going ludicrously fast, but, actually, what's the point?
You'd just panic and have an accident
and that's the end of that,
but if you just do normal speed,
they still can't get you out of the car, can they?
Keen to prove him wrong,
I initiated the TGPD anti-terrorism move.
Here we go.
Pushing, pushing.
Got him.
He's just driven off!
'As the hours crawled by, we tried many things.'
Stop him, Constable!
How's that going to help?
I've fallen off the bonnet!
What are you going to do if the doors are locked?
You can't pull a man out of a car.
This is an arrest.
'Happily, though, after many hours of tedious pursuit...'
Weaving, weaving...
'..James finally made a mistake.' Oh, crikey, this is a dead end.
Yes, his sense of direction has let him down. A-ha!
In we go, yes.
Bollocks!
We've got him! We finally have him.
We don't have him, he's closed my door.
He's done it again.
And now look. I've damaged a police car.
'This meant I was now delayed with police paperwork.'
"I were in pursuit of a pleb...
"IC1, male.
"He did crash into me at speed."
I'm going to get that bastard!
While Jeremy had been finessing his statement, I decided
it was time to skewer May with the TGPD prongs of doom.
It's a heavy, high-mobility engineer excavator,
built by JCB for the military.
It weighs 13.5 tonnes, but it's got a 6.7 litre straight-six turbo-diesel
and it can do 63mph.
James May, you've had it!
Wherever you are.
'James had vanished. But we had just the thing to find him again.'
The time has come, I think, to deploy the Top Gear Police Department drone of intrusiveness.
'With its military-spec nose-mounted reconnaissance
camera, it would track down May in a heartbeat.'
Here we go.
The drone of intrusiveness has crashed.
'Eventually I got the drone airborne and begun the hunt for OJ May.'
Wait a minute.
You sneaky little...
James was hiding in an abandoned garage bay,
but if he thought he was safe there,
he had another think coming.
Welcome, everyone, to the Top Gear Police Department
eaty thing of devastation.
This was designed primarily for mine clearance, but in the TGPD,
we use it in a rather different way.
There is Constable Hammond.
The enemy, behind that wall, no idea what is coming.
Engaging flails!
Flails engaged!
I'm not sure he should be operating that thing.
Yes, look at that!
He's not where...
What he isn't, sir, is there.
Situation update: in three minutes' time,
I will have beaten Jeremy's record on the run at a reasonable speed.
But the TGPD toy box wasn't empty yet.
Whoa! Ha-ha-ha!
Hello, it looks like Constable Hammond
has got the hang of tank driving.
The first thing you need to know is, I have an erection!
Coming at you, James May!
Oh, no, the Top Gear Police Department tank of righteousness is right on my tail.
What am I going to do?
I know.
Easy.
Right!
Oh, hang on a minute.
He's stopped, he's given up!
And on that bombshell... back to the studio.
It's interesting, an important question was raised in that film.
Because if you have a moustache, how do you concentrate
on doing anything other than having a moustache?
I know, I felt like I was the life-support machine for a moustache.
If you're a bomb disposal man, and you have to defuse a bomb,
you are thinking, "I have a moustache."
How did Nigel Mansell win a Formula One world championship? I know!
You don't have a moustache, sir,
but let me show you what it's like to have one.
It's like that. What do you do for a living? Transport manager.
You couldn't be a transport manager if I was doing that to you.
Anyway, we must get on because I have received a text -
the results of the car evasion challenge.
Jeremy Clarkson, 14 hours 22 minutes. Richard Hammock...
Autocorrect again?
Yes. Eight seconds. Thank you.
James May, 14 hours, 21 minutes.
Oh, blast! There you are.
Hang on, so the Fiesta won the supermarket sweep,
the Golf won the police chase
and the Nova won the hill climb.
That means that each of the cars is a winner. Precisely.
Which means that the older hot hatchback
is better than the modern one.
Which means we were right, and on that bombshell, it's time to end.
Thank you very much for watching. Good night!