Round the Bend Read online

  JEREMY CLARKSON

  Round the Bend

  MICHAEL JOSEPH

  an imprint of

  PENGUIN BOOKS

  Contents

  Just a couple of tweaks and it’s an iPhone on wheels

  Daihatsu Materia

  It’s far too cool for you, Mr Footballer

  Mazda MX-5 Roadster Coupé 2.0i

  Tailor-made for the hard of thinking

  Subaru Impreza WRX STi

  Clarkson on road safety

  Jeremy’s wit and wisdom

  The rubbish, brilliant saviour of Jaguar

  Jaguar XF SV8

  David Dimbleby made me wet myself

  Mercedes-Benz CLK Black Series

  Look, you traffic wombles, I’ve had enough

  Renaultsport Clio 197 Cup

  No, princess, you may not have my Fiat

  Fiat 500 1.2 Pop

  A mainstay of the car-washing classes

  Renault Laguna Sport Tourer Dynamique 2.0

  Lovely to drive, awful to live with

  Porsche Cayenne GTS

  The aristo ruined by the devil’s brew

  Subaru Legacy Outback TD RE

  A beauty cursed by travel sickness

  Callaway Corvette C6

  … catch me if you can

  Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution X FQ-360 GSR

  Look, mums – a 4×4 planet saver

  Mitsubishi Outlander 2.2 DI-DC Diamond

  Press a button and pray it’s the right one

  Citroën C5 2.7 HDi V6 Exclusive

  Face lifted, clanger dropped

  Mercedes-Benz SL 63 AMG

  So awful even the maker tells you to walk

  Kia Sedona 2.9 CRDi TS

  The problem is … it’s out of this world

  Nissan GT-R

  Fair Porsche, my sweet Italian lover

  Boxster RS 60 Spyder

  Mr Weedy comes up with the goods

  Mercedes-Benz SL 350

  Herr Thruster’s gone all limp and lost

  BMW M3 convertible

  It takes you to the edge … and shoves

  Porsche 911 Carrera GT2

  The Devil’s done a fruity one

  Mercedes SLR McLaren Roadster

  Eat my dust, Little England

  Jaguar XKR-S Coupé

  Calm yourselves, campers

  Ford Kuga 2.0 TDCi Titanium

  Très bien – a plumber in a tux

  Citroën Berlingo Multispace

  This is an epic car. Every single atom of every single component is designed only to make your life as quiet and as comfortable as possible. Dreaming of a …

  Rolls-Royce Phantom Coupé

  Oh, tell me it’s not too late

  Aston Martin Vantage

  An old flame returns to relight my fire

  Volkswagen Scirocco

  A one-armed man with a twitch can go fast in a Gallardo

  Lamborghini Gallardo LP560-4

  Oh no, this is the world’s worst car

  Chrysler Sebring Cabriolet 2.7 V6

  A Wilmslow pimp with class

  Cadillac CTS-V

  Misery, thy name is Vespa

  Vespa GTV Navy 125

  A trolley’s the better bet

  Renault Twingo Renaultsport 133

  Don’t go breaking my bones, baby

  Alfa Romeo Brera S 3.2 JTS V6

  Well, I did ask for a growlier exhaust

  Racing Green Jaguar XKR 475

  Just take your big antlers and rut off

  Audi RS6 Avant

  Look, a cow running in the Grand National

  Infiniti FX50S

  Watch out, this nipper’s tooled up

  Ford Fiesta Titanium 1.6

  An adequate way to drive to hell

  Vauxhall Insignia 2.8 V6 4x4 Elite Nav

  Safety first, then rough and tumble

  Volvo XC60 T6 SE Lux

  Fritz forgot the little things

  BMW 330d M Sport

  Out of nowhere, my car of the year

  Chevrolet Corvette ZR1

  What bright spark thought of this?

  Tesla Roadster

  This is by far the best of all the school-run-mobiles. There really is room for seven people, fourteen legs and two dogs in the boot as well

  Volvo XC90 D5 SE R-Design

  I’m scared of the dark in this doom buggy

  Ford Ka Zetec 1.2

  Never mind, Daphne, at least you’re pretty

  Volkswagen Passat CC GT V6

  The sinister …

  BMW 730d SE

  A smart, thrifty choice

  Toyota iQ2 1.0 VVT-i

  Perfect, the car for all seasons

  Range Rover TDV8 Vogue SE

  Flawed but fun

  Alfa MiTo 1.4 TB 155bhp Veloce

  Problem is, I don’t think I ever met anyone who would buy a Mazda 6 – and also it’s pretty hopeless

  Mazda 6 2.2 five-door Sport Diesel

  Trying to break the speed limit in this car would be like trying to break the speed limit while riding a cow

  Fiat Qubo 1.3 16v MultiJet Dynamic

  I raised my knife, snarled … and fell in love

  Jaguar XKR convertible

  The car adds up

  Lotus Evora 2+2

  No, fatty, you do not give me the horn

  Citroën C3 Picasso 1.6HDi 110 Exclusive

  It’s the eco-nut’s roughest, itchiest hair shirt

  Honda Insight 1.3 IMA SE Hybrid

  Enough power to restart a planet

  Audi Q7 V12 TDI Quattro

  Ghastly but lovable, the Vauxhall VXR8 Bathurst S is vulgar, terrible but ridiculously exciting

  Vauxhall VXR8 Bathurst S

  Oh please, angel, Daddy wants a go now

  Toyota Urban Cruiser 1.33 VVT-i

  You’ll really stand out – for paying too much

  Mini Cooper S Convertible

  The ultimate driving machine, or so I thought

  BMW Z4 sDrive35i

  Strip poker in the …

  Ford Focus RS

  Hey, Hans – don’t squeeze my bulls

  Lamborghini Murciélago LP 670-4 SV

  They’ve blown the saloon’s last chance

  Mercedes E 500 Sport

  The fastest pair of comfy slippers around

  Jaguar XF 3.0 Diesel S Portfolio

  Oops, this drunken driver is off to Brazil

  Argo Avenger 700 8x8

  Cheer yourself up in a …

  Mazda MX-5 2.0i Sport Tech

  The perfect supercar

  Lamborghini Gallardo LP560-4 Spyder

  Oh dear, it thinks it’s going to save the world

  Lexus RX 450h SE-L

  … a great car, but who will buy it?

  Ferrari California

  Excuse me while I park my aircraft carrier

  Ford Flex 3.5L EcoBoost AWD

  We have ways of being a killjoy

  BMW 135i M Sport convertible

  Love is blind, thunder thighs

  Audi TT RS Coupé

  Comfort for all the family in a …

  Skoda Octavia Scout 1.8 TSI

  A car even its mother couldn’t love

  Porsche Panamera 4.8 V8 Turbo

  Turnip boy has softened its black heart

  Mercedes-Benz CLK Black

  Jack of all trades

  Toyota RAV4 SR 2.2 D-4D

  Land Rover leaves behind the murderers

  Land Rover Discovery 4 3.0 TDV6 HSE

  Ye gods, it’s smashed through the apple cart

  Audi A4 Allroad 3.0 TDI Quattro

  It’s fresh, it’s funky – and it freaks my kids out

  Kia Soul 1.6 CRDi Shaker

  J
ust one trip and I was a mellow fellow

  Saab 9-3X 2.0 Turbo XWD

  Oh yes, this is why Wakefield trumps Dubai

  Aston Martin DBS Volante

  By the same author

  Motorworld

  Jeremy Clarkson’s Hot 100

  Jeremy Clarkson’s Planet Dagenham

  Born to be Riled

  Clarkson on Cars

  The World According to Clarkson

  I Know You Got Soul

  And Another Thing

  Don’t Stop Me Now

  For Crying Out Loud!

  Driven to Distraction

  How Hard Can It Be?

  For my children

  The contents of this book first appeared in Jeremy Clarkson’s Sunday Times column. Read more about the world according to Clarkson every week in the Sunday Times.

  Just a couple of tweaks and it’s an iPhone on wheels

  Daihatsu Materia

  By now, you will have heard all about the new Apple iPhone. You will have been told its battery has the life expectancy of a veal calf, and that if you want to take a photograph, you’d be better off setting up an easel and breaking out the oils.

  What’s more, you’ll have been told – by people who haven’t got one – that it works only on O2, that it can’t receive pictures via the text service and that it jams a lot.

  There’s something else as well. It is able to deliver the weather forecast from San Diego and clips from YouTube of young Asian men falling off motorcycles, because it can be connected to the internet. This, however, is not easy. Certainly, you won’t be able to do it. So you’re going to need a ‘little man’.

  It used to be that wealthy families in rural idylls would have a ‘little man’ in the village who could be called upon to come round at a moment’s notice and remove dead pigeons from the chimney pot. Or start the car. Or free the satellite dish from the clematis.

  He was the most vital cog in the community. But not any more. Because today he’s been surpassed by someone far more important. The ‘little man’ who will come round to fix your broken laptop.

  Unfortunately, my little man, who is called Hugo, recently met with some success and is now busy installing vast intranets on industrial estates. So asking him to come round to unblock a stubborn wireless network is a bit like asking Led Zeppelin to come round and be the turn at your four-year-old’s birthday party.

  This is a disaster because Hugo is the only man alive who knows how my house works. He knows the systems that prevent reporters from sitting in the road outside and reading my e-mails. He knows the codes that allow my daughter’s laptop to speak to my phone. He knows the DNA of every socket and every inch of cable. And now he is gone.

  So when my iPhone asks for an APN and a username and a password before it can hook up to something called the Edge, I have no idea what it’s on about. Nor do I know if I want the VPN on or off because I don’t know what a VPN is. Or data roaming. And then I have to tell it whether I am WEP, WPA or WPA2.

  And, of course, my new little man can’t help either because all the information is locked in the mind of my old little man.

  The upshot is that I can’t access the internet when I’m out and about, and do you know what? That is not the end of the world, because when I’m on location I rarely have the time or the inclination to think, ‘What I’d like to do now is watch a Korean explode, and then maybe I’ll watch a plump lady in Houston playing with herself.’

  Nor can I access my e-mails, which is also a good thing because nothing has ever been said in an e-mail that needed to be said at all.

  And anyway, even without these facilities, the iPhone sits in the pantheon of great inventions alongside the wheel, fire and Sky+. It’s one of those things that come into your life and you think, ‘How in the name of God did I ever manage without it?’

  Sure, the camera, as has been suggested, can’t take pictures if it’s too dark, too bright or something in between, but everything else is brilliant. You type out texts on a proper qwerty keyboard, and even if you make a mistake it uses witchcraft to correct the error. And then there’s the telephone, which comes with big, special-needs numbers that you can’t miss even if you have fingers like burst sausages. And on top of this, it’s an iPod.

  Problems? Honestly, there aren’t any. I’ve had mine hacked so it works on Vodafone, and I’m sorry, but the battery is fine. It lasts for four days. Though this might have something to do with the fact that I’m a man, and therefore only think to use a phone when I’m on a cliff, clinging to a branch, in a howling gale. And only then as a last resort.

  This brings me on to an interesting idea. Why doesn’t Apple make a car?

  The fact of the matter is that the established car makers are timid and afraid of change. They think the mini MPV is a revolution and that the Smart car can be mentioned in the same breath as penicillin. This means they never think outside the box.

  Why, for instance, does a car have a steering wheel? Or pedals? Or a dashboard? No, really. As anyone under the age of fifteen will tell you, the handset for a PlayStation can be used to steer, accelerate and brake a car. And there are still spare buttons on the handset that can be used to fire machine guns.

  And, of course, without a steering wheel or a dashboard, there’d be a lot more space in the cabin, and no need for expensive, weighty airbags. And that’s just me, thinking off the top of my head.

  I feel fairly sure that if Apple were asked to make a car, it would come up with an automotive iPod, and within weeks we’d view the current alternatives in the same way that we now view the cassette tape, the LP and the 8-track. Until then, however, we will have to make do with the Daihatsu Materia.

  In essence, this is a small, five-door hatchback that you can buy for £10,995. But as you can see from the pictures, it doesn’t look like a small five-door hatchback. It looks like the Johnny Cab Arnold Schwarzenegger used when he was on Mars.

  You may not care for the styling very much, in the same way that you may think an iPod is no match for the gloss and the joy of an album cover. But there is one big advantage. And I do mean big. Inside, the Materia is absolutely vast.

  On the outside, then, you have a car that is as easy to park as a small Volkswagen. But inside, five adults can luxuriate.

  It’s a nice place to be, too. The dashboard doesn’t look like it was designed to a price – which, because they’ve put the instruments in the middle so they don’t have to be changed for left-hand-drive markets, it was. However, precisely because the instruments are in the middle, it looks like it’s all been styled by someone with a vision, and a polo-neck jumper.

  The Materia is well equipped, too. You get a CD changer – wow – air-conditioning, rear parking sensors, electric bits and bobs and, if you fork out £800 more, an automatic gearbox.

  Under the bonnet there’s a 1.5-litre engine that produces – just – enough get-up-and-go to mean the Materia can be used on a motorway. It’s not like today’s Euro-smalls that have too much weight and too little oomph to get out of the inside lane.

  To drive? Well, it’s fairly terrible, if I’m honest. Any attempt to make it dance is resisted with lots of bouncing around, and because the front seats are so utterly lacking in side support you tend to fall out of them if you are even remotely spirited.

  It doesn’t matter, though. Criticizing the little Daihatsu for not being sporty is a bit like criticizing Postman Pat’s van for not being any good at making mashed potatoes.

  The only thing I will criticize is the fuel consumption. Maybe because the body has the aerodynamic properties of a warehouse, or maybe because the engine’s bigger than is normal, it isn’t the pound stretcher you might imagine: around 35mpg will be the norm.

  This will add a few pounds to your annual motoring bill but I think it’s worth it. I liked this car very much. You will, too, whether you’re a school-run mum, an old lady or a surfer dude who wants a boxy replacement for your recently expired VW Microbus.

  Ho
wever, there is a long way to go. Daihatsu has wandered off the well-worn path with this one, and come up with what the motor industry would call radical and daring. But imagine what might be possible if the Materia were now handed over to the computer industry. We’d get a properly amazing car. And little men everywhere would be in work for the rest of time.

  6 January 2008

  It’s far too cool for you, Mr Footballer

  Mazda MX-5 Roadster Coupé 2.0i

  As the reputation of all the most exquisite cars continues to be embrowned by the nation’s footballers, those who try to combine extreme wealth with a splash of discretion and good taste find themselves in a bit of a quandary.

  In the olden days, if you were to turn up at a party in a Ferrari or a Maserati, women might imagine that you were the Aga Khan. Today, however, they will cower in a cupboard all night, fearful that if they come out they will be roasted in front of a jeering mob who’ll record the event on their mobile phones and, in the morning, upload it all to the internet. ‘I have a Ferrari,’ is code for ‘I am a rapist.’ Or, worse, ‘I am Kerry Katona.’

  The solution, then, for wealthy people who are not rapists or Kerry Katona is to buy a car that simply isn’t on a footballer’s radar. A car that manages to be expensive and comfortable, and possibly even quite fast, without shouting, ‘Look at me.’ A fatboy car.

  The Bristol Blenheim is a fatboy car. So is the Mercedes SL. Then you have the Rolls-Royce Phantom, the Bentley Continental Flying Spur, the Jaguar XJR, the Range Rover – but emphatically not the Sport – the BMW 7-series, and the car I was given for Christmas. A thirty-seven-year-old Mercedes 600 Grosser.

  Launched in 1963, it was by far and away the most expensive car in the world, with a price tag, in America, of $20,000. In its eighteen-year production run only 2,677 were made and almost all were bought by people who did not play football. Idi Amin, Louis Winthorpe from the film Trading Places and Leonid Brezhnev. Mao Tse-tung was said to be very fond of his, and it’s easy to see why.

  Today we marvel at the power-operated boot lids on cars such as the Lexus LS 600h but the Mercedes Grosser had this feature forty-five years ago. And yes, while it does without such luxuries as a heated rear window, and the dim/dip light switch is on the floor, it does have power-operated seats, windows, sunroof and even doors. And the power does not come from a fickle electric motor either. Oh no. Everything that moves on the Grosser is powered by hydraulics. Small wonder it weighs three tons.