Why I really don't want to like Top Gear

Being home alone is both a blessing, and a curse. A blessing in the sense that you can watch whatever you want- you have total carte blanche in terms of what goes on the television. However, it is a curse in the sense that whilst watching a random repeat on 'Dave', you can stumble across something that you really don't want to like- but find yourself chuckling.

I have always prided myself on how I have a vehement dislike and non-interest in cars. By association, I have a strong dislike for Top Gear, and Jeremy Clarkson to boot. You might think that given my bordering-on-unhealthy obsession with football, cars would be right up my street. But to me, they all look the same. I can't tell a Ford Escort from a Ferrari, or a Subaru from a Saab. If ever I see what a call a 'car bore' at a party (40-something male, bohemian scarf, trousers far too tight) I veer away from them at a rate of knots. And this is what I have always assumed Top Gear is like. Three car bores guffawing at the latest model of Skoda, with the occasional 'boys' day out', like three 11 year olds. Since my epiphany on Friday, however, I will, in part, take that back.

In this episode, Clarkson, May and Hammond all tried to cross the Channel from Dover to Calais, using a car. No, really. This idea in itself simply sounds like another 'boys and their toys' outing. I was alongside the three blokes' mothers tutting on the sidelines, sighing 'I'll call the ambulance when it all goes wrong'. But in fact, the repartee between the three presenters was actually very funny. They've all developed characters- Hammond is the excitable schoolboy, May the useless buffoon, and Clarkson the arrogant pr*ck who brags about his victory for weeks afterwards. We all know a Clarkson. I appreciate that the motor-mouth is the reason the show works, but I still can't face even an ounce of liking towards him. I much prefer his shaggy-haired foil, James May. May is stubborn, but determined, beaten-down but not beaten. We all love an underdog, and May is the underdog in this programme. Admittedly he remains the underdog throughout, and bears the brunt of Clarkson and Hammond's fury, but James May is arguably the friendly fella' with an interest in cars, as opposed to 'the car bore'.

They also had music legend Jools Holland on the show, to talk mainly about cars. This bit was the bit I was dreading. We can all laugh along at the Channel section, where knowledge of cars is obsolete, but when the facts and figures come out, I get the urge to either run out the room crying, or turn over to the friendly, welcoming face of Sky Sports News. As it happens, I stick it out. Admittedly, I'd have had more of an idea what they were talking about if they were chatting in Russian, but the knowledgeable conversation between Holland and Clarkson, solely about cars, really impressed me. I had a respect for how they'd managed to commit to memory all these gas-guzzling facts about cars, in the same way that I've committed to memory Birmingham's next 5 fixtures. True, all three of us would be better off learning something worthwhile, but I was still impressed.

I still can't bring myself to wholeheartedly embrace the show. Something holds me back. Maybe it is the subconscious me stopping myself, after cars featured in 90% of all the Physics questions I've ever answered. Perhaps I have this deep fear that cars are somehow nerdy, and I would be betraying my footballing self to even acknowledge the interesting aspect of cars- Top Gear. Or perhaps the one thing that puts me off is the absurd and irony-free remark that revving a certain super-car is like 'the Devil clearing his throat'. Oh how I flocked to a re-run of 2004's greatest goals!