The Top Gear Story Read online

  In fact, his musical prowess was sufficiently advanced for him to go on to study music at Lancaster University (years later when his Top Gear career was in full flight, he would be presented with an honorary Doctor of Letters degree from Lancaster). He loves classical music to this day and when he finally acquired an iPod in 2008, one of the first albums downloaded onto it was a Chopin piece (his favourite is that composer’s ‘Prelude No. 24 in D Minor for the Piano’ and Couperin’s ‘Les Baricades Misterieuses’ for the harpsichord – the instrument he originally wanted to study at university). It was while at Lancaster that he developed a more rebellious streak although when pressed, he actually clarified this by saying he ‘was mildly rebellious, then … I didn’t set fire to anyone, I didn’t murder anyone, but, you know, I did occasionally wear denim waistcoats and embroider my jeans …’

  After graduating, like many fellow students initially he had no focussed idea of what career to pursue, so he enrolled at an employment agency. The first job this temporary route secured him was working in the archive department of a women’s hospital in west London and he also had a brief stint in the Civil Service. By the late 1980s, he migrated to working as a writer for The Engineer: the first leap from pen pushing to journalism was simply made by applying for an advertised job in the magazine. Soon he would also secure commissioned writing for Autocar magazine.

  It is at the latter where the first signs of the cheeky schoolboy humour that would later equip him perfectly to work on Top Gear came into play. In 1992, he was given the task of compiling Autocar’s end-of-year ‘Road Test Book’ supplement. This was something he found deeply boring, perhaps exacerbated by what he himself has described as his ‘innate laziness, deep down I am lazy.’

  So, to spice up the tedium, he inserted a hidden message in the supplement by taking the initial letter of each spread of reviews so that when read in sequence, they formed a sentence. This crafty device is actually called an acrostic, a fact probably only James May would know. It took him two months to compile the supplement, including all the appropriate words to make up his secret message.

  So what exactly did he say?

  ‘So you think it’s really good, yeah? You should try making the bloody thing up. It’s a real pain in the arse!’

  Later he said that he’d forgotten what he’d done because back then the lead time from editing and design to actually printing the magazine was well over two months. He told BBC Radio 2 how he eventually found out his employer’s reaction: ‘When I arrived at work that morning everybody was looking at their shoes and I was summoned to the managing director of the company’s office. The thing had come out and nobody at work had spotted what I’d done because I’d made the words work around the pages so you never saw a whole word but all the readers had seen it and they’d written in, thinking they’d won a prize or a car, or something.’

  He was subsequently sacked.

  Still, a start in motoring journalism had been made. Unemployed briefly and with little money right before Christmas, he pitched numerous ideas to Car magazine and the publication was sufficiently impressed by his knowledge, experience and passion to offer him his own column. James May’s writing is very fluid and understated in its humour (quite the opposite of Clarkson’s brilliant and deceptively deft smash-and-grab prose) and he quickly acquired fans within automotive journalism and the wider reading public.

  And this is how his path started to turn towards Top Gear; when Channel 4 launched the Top Gear rival, Driven, as we have seen he was approached and became one of the show’s main three presenters. May impressed although the programme didn’t, but nonetheless a stuttering move into television had been made.

  As Jon Bentley has mentioned, the real leap came when Jeremy Clarkson decided to leave old Top Gear, which inadvertently provided the perfect opportunity for James to bring his many talents to the nation’s foremost motoring show. At that point, by his own admission, he ‘never imagined in a million years that it would turn into the phenomenon that it has. If I had, I would have thought twice about it, to be honest – I find being famous slightly embarrassing.’

  Before that could happen, however, the old version of Top Gear itself was facing what threatened to be an almost terminal turn of events …

  CHAPTER 4

  The ‘New’ Top Gear

  When the BBC announced in the late summer of 2001 that Top Gear was being taken off-air for the aforementioned ‘full service and an overhaul’, many industry insiders predicted the programme was effectively in its death-throes. The announcement came some 23 years after the show had first been broadcast; given at the time of writing, the current more successful generation of Top Gear has only been on-air for eight years, that gives you some indication of just how successful and rare its predecessor’s longevity was.

  However, the turn of the Millennium was a very different place in TV-land from 1977. For one, the television landscape had changed immeasurably since the heady days of 6 million car enthusiasts tuning in. Magazine shows were a tired old format and recent additions to primetime schedules such as Changing Rooms and Ground Force proved hugely popular.

  Second, despite various sources seemingly re-writing much of the old Top Gear’s history into a staid and unadventurous programme like some kind of benign and cosy old uncle, in its latter years the first generation of the show was a highly controversial programme. Jeremy Clarkson worked so well when he first appeared on our screens because he was outspoken, this is not something that evolved over time. This fact is reflected in the response from many quarters when the news filtered out that Top Gear might be facing a petrol-fumed end.

  Although the BBC’s statement simply said that every aspect of the format and show was under review, when directly asked about how terminal the decision was, they declined to rule out the series being abandoned for good. By 2001, ratings were well down on their lofty peak and the programme’s style was increasingly criticised by industry insiders for being ‘old fashioned’. Since Clarkson and Quentin Willson had left, ratings dropped further, struggling to get past between 2 and 3 million for most shows (although this was still substantial for a BBC2 programme and in fact had even turned back onto an upward curve of late).

  Nonetheless, according to one motoring writer, Chris Gray of the Independent, ‘Top Gear has become a rotting old banger with less sex appeal than your granny.’ Gray went on to vilify the programme, saying that ‘Britain’s most famously politically incorrect motoring show’ was being pulled and bemoaned ‘Clarkson’s childish sexism and love of foreign stereotypes … he turned laddishness into an art form and MPs condemned the obsession with speed and acceleration.’

  Slightly oddly, two new motoring shows – including one with the name still involved (Top Gear: Car Jack) – were already scheduled for the following year. The Car Jack format was a review programme with most features done by the general public. The second show was to be called Panic Mechanic and boasted a bent for weird and wonderful design features as well as ‘tough physical challenges’, something more reminiscent of the latter-day success of Pimp My Ride. And so there were mixed signals.

  The spectre of Top Gear wasn’t finished yet, however. In 2002, a special was broadcast from the Birmingham Motor Show, presented by Northern Ireland’s excellent Jason Barlow, who had presented alongside James May and Mike Brewer on Driven before moving to the BBC for the last two years of old Top Gear. Jason Barlow also went on to present the new BBC show, Wrong Car, Right Car, which ran for two series.

  That said, the migration of presenting talent between rival TV stations was generally in the opposite direction: already several of old Top Gear’s presenters had transferred to Channel Five’s new motoring show, Fifth Gear (initially written as 5th Gear), including Vicki Butler-Henderson, Tiff Needell and Adrian Simpson. This was launched in 2002 with a host of famous faces and was at first a half-hour programme (until the longer formatted eighth series onwards) with a more factual bias. Sounds familiar? That’s because accord
ing to the latter show’s former producer Jon Bentley, any relation to the old Top Gear was not necessarily a coincidence.

  Bentley had been approached to produce Five’s new motoring show and given his vast experience and renowned passion for the subject was unrivalled in terms of what he could offer. He was one of several former Top Gear faces behind-the-scenes at the new programme: ‘I’d kept in touch with some of the people who continued to work on Top Gear after I’d left. Late in 2001, I got a call from Richard Pearson and he said he’d left the BBC, joined North One Television and was setting up a new show called Fifth Gear for Channel Five. I thought this sounded great fun. I was series producer for the first few series.’

  Bentley attended various meetings and the brief for the new show was made very clear: ‘What they said was that they wanted old Top Gear … they wanted exactly the same, a very straight magazine show.’ Five’s decision, it transpired, might have been just the adrenaline shot that Top Gear needed.

  Maybe the gusto with which Five launched Fifth Gear caused consternation in the back-rooms of the BBC? It’s difficult to say, but what’s clear is that with just one series of Fifth Gear completed, the BBC made another announcement. Top Gear was to be relaunched in a new format, with some new presenters and the full backing of Aunty Beeb.

  While conspiracy theorists were enjoying the ‘Will they/won’t they kill off Top Gear?’ etc, two former faces from that programme had been quietly re-inventing the wheel. Some time during 2001, Andy Wilman, the former Repton school pal of Clarkson (as stated, himself a Top Gear presenter), had called up his friend and they’d met over a pub lunch to talk about the show and a possible relaunch. Wilman had tired of the old format and has since stated – in his famously brusque way – that it had become ‘fucking old-fashioned’. Both he and Clarkson revelled in the opportunities to be outspoken, film outrageous features and generally make the show as much about entertainment as it was about cars.

  And so they drew up a masterplan: the duo instantly became a potent creative force, drawing on their long friendship and substantial shared TV experience. As Jon Bentley says, ‘Andy’s a splendid chap, very hardworking indeed. They definitely have a very close relationship.’ Over the coming weeks, this intensely creative partnership drew up a brand new template for any potential Top Gear relaunch.

  First, it would be screened from a central location, in this instance an old aircraft hangar rather than the previous magazine style; another idea was to not shy away from supercars, in fact they wanted to gravitate towards them, so there was to be a news section that would quickly despatch important but ‘boring’ car news (with one-liners such as ‘there’s a new Nissan Micra out’); there would be an all-male presenting line-up; also a so-called ‘Cool Wall’ to post pictures of cars and rate their desirability (of more later); outlandish and indeed cutting-edge TV features were to be encouraged; they would always be outspoken and speak their minds about the cars they tested and there would be a smattering of celebrity guests. Wilman’s defence of this bombastic and super-confident approach was simple: ‘Do the Two Fat Ladies say, “And if you want to have a low-fat version of this recipe, you can use single cream”? They never do. They go, “Pile it on, heart attack now!”’

  The BBC loved the re-invention and commissioned the first series of ‘new’ Top Gear, set to be broadcast on 20 October 2002. The plan was to have two series per year of between 8 and 10 episodes. In the new Top Gear office, an ‘Ideas Board’ for suggestions was put up and initially filled with suggestions for features from the production team; over time it has also hosted ideas from fans or members of the public. Each show would usually have four filmed features (although this would fluctuate, especially when more substantial challenges were screened). This meant the Top Gear team had to create and execute around 70 to 80 ideas per year: no mean feat, creatively or practically.

  The Top Gear production set-up is unusual within the BBC. Wilman only works on the series and is invariably talked of as being very ‘hands-on’. Famously direct, he has been described by one former co-worker as like ‘a glum, but familiar uncle on a rare visit home’. Top Gear’s office itself is open-plan and the team say the production process itself is very ‘organic’.

  The show still used The Allman Brothers’ Band theme tune of ‘Jessica’, albeit updated. There was one final change: whereas the old Top Gear logo used a cog for the letters ‘O’ and ‘E’ in its name, the new version only employed a cog behind the word ‘Top’.

  On that initial programme, the very first cars seen on-screen were a Ford Focus and a VW Golf; the team would be testing the Citroën Berlingo and Mazda 6 for the more mild-mannered viewer but they’d also be thrashing the beautiful Lamborghini Murcielago and the breath-taking supercar, the Pagani Zonda, as well as featuring the Ford GT40. There was Harry Enfield as a guest and a feature on how fast you have to drive to be too fast for a speed camera to nab you. Remember Jon Bentley having to battle to film the Ferrari Testarossa versus the Lamborghini Countach? Well, in the first series of new Top Gear alone, as well as the two aforementioned supercars, they also featured among others, the Noble M12 GTO, the Westfield XTR, an Aston Martin Vanquish, the Ferrari 575M Maranello, a Nissan Skyline R34 GT-R, the Bentley Image, the Honda NSX Type R, the Lotus Elise 111S, a Maserati Coupé, the Lotus Esprit and a TVR T350C! This was Andy Wilman and Jeremy Clarkson absolutely setting out their stall. Clarkson even introduced the new show as such prior to the opening credits of Episode 1, saying before the theme tune kicked in that it was ‘a car programme’, there’d be no cushions, no one would sing on the programme or get a recording contract, pointing out their test track was purpose-built and adding there’d be no bus lanes and no traffic jams.

  Before moving on, it’s vital to note one further addition to the show’s personnel. In order to test the long list of supercars they were intent on featuring on the new Top Gear, the team had decided that they needed someone other than a presenter to trial the machines around the test track. So, in Episode 1, Clarkson explained this thinking and said they’d decided to look for a real racing driver because they have ‘tiny little brains and worthless opinions’. Then, for the very first time ever, he introduced The Stig. At this stage, The Stig was wearing all black, à la Darth Vader.

  For the first series, the presenting team was JC, Richard Hammond and Jason Dawe. Hammond’s path to Top Gear had been a quirky one: contrary to Wilman’s supposedly all-male line-up plan, unconfirmed TV legend has it that certain folk may have been considering whether to recruit a female presenter, but Richard Hammond was sent along too as he shared an agent with a woman that they were interested in.

  Hammond was a long-time fan of the show and avidly watched old Top Gear as a kid. As we have seen, he had been making good progress on various cable TV channels but in mainstream terms, he was a relative unknown. At his audition, he made a good impression and was initially asked to make some short films for a possible Top Gear spin-off.

  The Guardian quoted a ‘former BBC executive’ as saying, ‘We interviewed lots of high-profile motoring journalists and half of them were scared shitless of Jeremy. The remarkable thing about Richard is he was naturally funny and he took the piss out of Clarkson, which Jeremy loved.’ The Top Gear job was Hammond’s. It was 2002 – a big year for Richard, as he also married his sweetheart, Mindy. Later, speaking to Times Online, Hammond made no secret of how excited he was to be on the series: ‘Even when we were recording the first episode and Jeremy said, “Hello, and welcome to Top Gear”, my immediate thought was, “Oh great, Top Gear’s back!” Then I suddenly realised, “Oh s***, I’m on it!”’

  Alongside the show’s patriarch Clarkson, Hammond’s other co-presenter was Jason Dawe, a Cornish native who first started selling cars in 1986 when he worked at a local car dealership (including two separate brands crowning him ‘Salesman of the Year’) before graduating to become a sought-after motor industry trainer. After 16 years in the motor trade, he began working in journalism and pick
ed up a reputation for championing consumers, helping them pick their way through the minefield that buying a car can prove to be. Dawe’s participation in the new Top Gear therefore introduced a highly credible and investigative tone to the brash programme. His role quickly took the form of ‘consumer’s champion’ with the more light-hearted features generally being presented by Clarkson and Hammond. However, at the start of the second series of the new generation, Dawe was replaced by James May.

  Following the demise of the previous incarnation of Top Gear, May returned to his revered magazine columns. He was barely settled back in his journalist’s chair before the new Top Gear producers called as they were looking for a replacement for Jason Dawe, who was to leave the programme after the end of series 1 in 2002. Despite earlier reservations about being too similar to Clarkson, May was the archetypal British gent: a more cerebral, stylish and pedestrian partner to the firebrands of Clarkson and Hammond. He has since proved the perfect foil for the other two’s more exuberant personalities.

  Speaking to the Guardian in 2008, a BBC executive recalled his audition for the new formatted show: ‘James had a 14-year-old Bentley at the time. At the audition he said, “I’ve found out if you spend £50 at Tesco, you get £5 of free petrol. Now I can drive anywhere I like; the problem is my house is full of rotting food!” Everyone in the room laughed, Jeremy laughed. That landed him the job.’

  With James May on board, the BBC now had the presenting line-up that would, over time, turn Top Gear into a programme watched by hundreds of millions of people around the world. However, although different to its predecessor in many ways, the new format was not an immediate ratings hit; where the BBC played its trump card was in allowing the show to grow, giving Wilman and his production team the creative freedom and time to produce unusual features while allowing the presenting triumvirate of Hammond/Clarkson/May the opportunity to develop their characters on-screen.