Jeremy Clarkson reveals the weird questions he asks people when they want car buying advice
Find out why Clarkson hates 'crossover mini SUVS', and what you need to know when choosing your next car
WHENEVER someone leans across a dinner table and asks me what car they should buy, I always say “a Ferrari F40”.
Then they look a bit exasperated and explain they need something sensible, so I say “a 1986 Lada Riva shooting brake”. This normally does the trick and they go back to talking about something that is more interesting, such as accountancy or ornithology.
However, at dinner the other day, the man opposite really was quite insistent. He didn’t want a Ferrari F40 or a 1986 Lada Riva shooting brake and demanded that I came up with another alternative. “A Bugatti EB 110,” I said, hoping that would shut him up. But it didn’t.
“Come on,” he said, “I’m being serious.” So I told him to buy a Cadillac Escalade.
I hate being asked about cars as much as doctors hate being asked about ailments. They can’t possibly determine, when they’ve had two bottles of agreeable red, what’s wrong with someone who’s fully clothed and on the opposite side of the table, any more than I can tell someone what car to buy when I don’t know what they need it for and how much they have to spend and if they have any prejudice towards the French or the Japanese.
“Are you a racist?” I asked the man on the opposite side of the table. And, before he could answer, “Is your wife extremely fat?” These are the things that matter when it comes to choosing a car. There’s more too. If your children are prone to explosive car sickness, you don’t want cloth seats. And if you have only one arm, you don’t want a flappy paddle gearbox.
I went through a full range of weird questions with Mr Persistent, including, “Will you be having sex on the back seat with your secretary?” and then told him the best car he could possibly buy was a Vauxhall Astra van.
Are you a racist? Is your wife extremely fat?
It turned out, however, that he actually wanted an Audi Q5. “Well, get one of those, then.”
“Are they any good?” he asked. “No,” I replied.
I don’t like the Audi Q5 or any car of that type because they seem too pointless. You get the same amount of interior space as you would in a normal hatchback but because of the extra weight and tallness, you get less performance and terrible fuel economy. It’s not swings and roundabouts here. It’s swings and falling off the roundabout into a pile of dog-dirt-encrusted broken glass.
Cars will have to keep on getting taller and taller until you need a ladder to get inside
I explained all this to my dinner companion but he was most insistent. He said he liked a car that gave him a commanding view of the road and didn’t have any truck with my argument that a hatchback and a cushion would do the trick. So I told him to buy the Q5 and started talking to the woman on my right.
“What car should I buy?” she asked . . . I then went to the lavatory and drank all the Domestos.
The trouble is that, these days, absolutely everyone wants a hatchback on stilts. They all want a commanding view of the road. And they don’t realise that soon it won’t be commanding at all, because everyone will be at the same height. Which means cars will have to keep on getting taller and taller until you need a ladder to get inside. And instead of airbags, you’ll have a parachute.
The other problem is that crossover mini SUVs, or whatever it is they’re called, are all extremely dreary to drive. And look at. And be near. I really genuinely hate them.