Oh, for the love of croutons...
"You're walking down any regular high street in any regular town anywhere in the developed world. People are going about their business in that typical anonymous, don't look at me don't talk to me manner. Suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you notice a group of tall, thin women shedding their coats. Intrigued, you turn your head, positively amazed to find Claudia Schiffer, Linda Evangalista, Kate Moss, Cindy Crawford and a few other supermodels whose names you cannot pronounce, locked head-to-crotch in an endless 69, munching away at each other on the pavement, as if fresh kitten were the new fillet steak.
"As a distressed Germaine Greer walks hurriedly away, shouting something daft and inane no doubt, a large group of spectators, mostly male and mostly hooting, gather around the high fashion faux-lez fest. One of your friends, holding up his iPhone shakily in youthful excitement to record the action for later upload to YouTube, quips 'Oh my god this is incredible!'. Your other friend, the one wearing a tshirt with an air-lifted Morris Marina, instead says....
"'Meh... seen it all before, completely predictable. Cindy really needs to shave her moot... 3/10'." And then walks off.
If you're the sort of person who has been watch Top Gear for years, has every episode on your hard drive and has watched every episode 12+ times, then yeah, current episodes of TG will contain a certain amount of deja vu. Let's face it - there are only so many different things you can do under the auspices of a car show. These guys have redefined what a car show can be, but even they have limits. Short of putting a car on the moon (which they've already tried, of course), everything will be at best a new spin on an old idea.
Does that make it instantly shithouse then? Hell no.
The boys aren't infallible, but they wouldn't be one of the world's most popular television shows if they didn't hit pay dirt more often than not. Let's face it, most of the world - and virtually every one with a vagina - don't really get off on technical reviews on mid-range family wagons... and thus deeply enjoy crashing Robins, flaming caravans, preposterous metaphors and smoking power slides instead.
It also seems increasingly apparent to me that some FinalGearers approach each episode of Top Gear as an event that should be akin to something comparable to the birth of their first child, an Apple product launch and a religious experience, and thus end up being expressly disappointed when the show doesn't create waves of TV world rippling, African Special awesomeness.
It is, after all, just a TV show, albeit a fucking awesome one. Possibly even the best one. For those of you who genuinely felt suicidal after watching the episode, I'm sure there's some insipid show on the FOX network that might be unscripted enough to suit your needs.
Anyway, this episode was fucking awesome, solid 9 stuff. 911 vs R8 was classic Clarkson (his analogies are an inspiration), news was hilarious despite not containing much actual news, SIARPC was actually pretty decent for an American movie star with no clue doing the movie plug thing (hey, the promo clip had nice tits in it. What more do you need?). Rather than wanting to scrape my eyeballs out with my penis, I spent most of the 2 motorhome segments laughing my arse off. Granted, perhaps a bit of extra scripting wouldn't have gone astray to explain why Richard's folding metal castle suddenly caught on fire, but this is Top Gear, just like on The Simpsons, fires can start spontaneously anywhere, any time, without provocation or indeed an ignition source.
I actually thought James was on the money regarding his design, but considering the tests, I would have gone for one of these instead (Saab Toppola - like a shrunken down ute campervan):