(Author’s note: This isn’t going to be a TV blog all the time – I leave that job to the inimitable Keith Telly Topping – but I gotta get this out.)
Dear Top Gear,
It’s been a good few years, eh? But times change, and people change, and we’ve grown apart. I think it’s time we started seeing others.
It’s not me, it’s you.
Well, to be more specific, it’s not Hamster or Captain Slow or the Stig, it’s Jezza*.
The Stig never called an Asian person a “slope.”
Hamster never said “Eenie meenie miney moe, catch a n****r by the toe.” His excuse? “That’s how we learned it in my day.” Yeah. You’re in my mom’s age bracket, she heard that version too. Know what, though? She had more sense than to repeat it. Even as a child, she had more sense than Clarkson has now as a supposed adult.
And I don’t think Captain Slow, despite his perpetually baked demeanor, would be dim enough to put a Falklands plate on a car destined for Argentina.
I don’t know who held up the sign saying “Gay cunt” with the arrow pointed at Clarkson’s head, but I wouldn’t put it past him doing it himself, since he also tweeted it.
Clarkson also said he wanted Cornwall to disappear.
You used to be that imported show featuring Three Guys Goofing Off that I waited eagerly for new seasons of each year. But I’ve found someone new, and while they’re occasionally immature, they’re never on the level of gleeful, unrepentant douchebaggery that Clarkson’s plumbed to.
So, Top Gear, I’m leaving you for Ylvis.
Have a nice cancellation.
PS: You aren’t even that good at the really juvenile potty humor anymore. @Midnight has taken that from you too.