Top Gear, in its Clarkson-Hammond-May incarnation, was a show that helped define the stereotype of “blokiness” from 2002-2022, and it grew in appeal, scale, absurdity and weirdness over those two decades of both its presenters’ and the nation’s lives.
Richard Porter wrote for the show more or less from the beginning of its 21st century renaissance until its end, through the inception of The Stig and several incarnations of the character, through the various iterations of a star in a reasonably priced car, and through the longer “adventure” episodes where three slightly heightened versions of fundamental car numpties tried not to get killed on absurd journeys which, in contrast, did their best to kill them.
And On That Bombshell is the story of Porter’s journey through the life of what became a TV cash cow and an international legend.
There are elements of what you want in the book: things like the conversations around how The Stig got his name (according to Porter, there was serious consideration to calling him The Gimp originally), through the American special where the presenters came startlingly close to being Actually Lynched (one of Porter’s proudest moments, he claims, as the liberal slogans they painted on their cars were apparently his idea), through the Indian adventure with which Porter expresses continual frustration for its lack of narrative journey and overall point.
It also includes the likes of Hammond’s ill-fated attempt to drive a jet-powered car, and takes the story all the way upto and just barely through the incident with Jeremy Clarkson apparently lamping a staffmember, which not only ended the era, but shifted the trio to the less successful Amazon iteration of their automotive silliness, The Grand Tour.
But it’s also a frustratingly slight affair, belting through twenty years of television-making like a Stig around Gambon, and leaving you with the overarching sensation of a smoke-stinking, student-flattish production office full of fairly intelligent blokes behaving more or less like giggling teenagers. For a living.
It’s in this dichotomy that the book is most vexing – clearly, the three presenters each knew their stuff, for all that (particularly) Clarkson veiled that knowledge in an (at least slightly exaggerated) caricature of boorishness. But as on screen, so in the book, they come across as people you mostly wouldn’t want to hang about with even if you were deeply into cars.
As such, you get a portrait of a show that came to symbolise a particular strand of “blokiness” during a time when that was indulged by mainstream British (and clearly, world) culture as a lodestone of the human experience. That was the people, that was the show, and to some extent, that’s the book.
But read or heard with just a little hindsight, it works better as the cultural history of a baffling anomaly than a particularly tenable strand of international enthusiasm or programming. A testament to on-screen chemistry, rather than anything like a robust or repeatable format - which might explain why neither newer versions of Top Gear, nor extended adventures with the three ultra-blokes, have since done anywhere near the same volume of business.
Where perhaps the book is at its most cringeworthy is in the fairly consistent plea from Porter that while to all intents and purposes, Top Gear presented as three caricatures of British petrolheadedness titting about and insulting each other, it only worked so well because of both the consistent hard work of lots of people (which feels valid) and the notion that it all had to have some sort of consumer journalistic angle that added genuine value to the world, which as a claim feels dubious in the extreme.
Most episodes may have ended on a “bombshell”, a point proven or a discovery conclusively if ludicrously made. But the thinness of those bombshells belies the notion of any serious focus on consumer journalism, and it’s a thinness that translates to the book, too.
There are no genuine bombshells here – it’s the equivalent of the team asking “Can you write a bone-basic book about twenty years writing for the leading car programme in the world? And more to the point, would anyone buy it if you did?”
The result of the consumer journalism experiment here is the bombshell that “Yes… yes, you can. And remarkably, yes they will.”
And On That Bombshell, we’ll gloss over the question of whether anyone who did go ahead and buy it actually got anything much FROM the experience. Goodnight.