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Jeremy Clarkson
WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG…
For pity’s sake, Fritz, please stop fiddling
No nasty surprises in this gooey confection
Oh yes, take me now, Lady Marmalade
It’s hardly British but learn to haggle
Try this moose suit for size, Mr Top Gun
Titter ye not, it’s built for the clown about town
Those yurt dwellers have got it right
Little Luigi’s turbo boost
I don’t fancy Helga von Gargoyle… Can’t think why
Damn it, Spock, we can’t shake off Arthur Daley
Bruce’s bonzer duck-billed koala
Botox and a bikini wax and I’m ready to roll
Oh, barman, my pint of pitbull has gone all warm and fluffy
Pointless but fun – what a good wheeze
Prepare your moobs for a workout
The old duffer trots out in boy-racer colours
What’s the Swedish-Chinese for I can’t see?
I love you now I’m all grown up, Helga
Oh, miss, you turn me into a raging despot
From 0 to 40 winks in the blink of an eye
Oh, Shrek, squeeze me till it hurts
A world first – the Ferrari 4 × what for?
Work harder, boy, or it will be you in here
Too tame for the special flair service
An asthmatic accountant in lumberjack clothing
Someone please check I haven’t left my spleen back there
I thought it looked humdrum. But wow!
You vill never handle zis torture
Strip out all the tricks and it’s still a wizard
Open up them pearly gates…
Oh, grunting frump, you looked so fine on the catwalk
Now we’re flying
The topless tease luring men to ridicule
I’m sold, Mrs Beckham – I want your baby
I say, chaps, who needs a fourth wheel?
Beach beauties love my bucking bronto
Hop in, Charles, it’s a Luddite’s dream
It’s no cruiser but it can doggy-paddle
Uh-oh, some fool’s hit the panic button
Simply no use for taking the kids to see Granny
Amazing where bottle tops and string will get you
Bong! I won’t let you go until you love me
A heart transplant sexes up Wayne’s pet moose
The arms race is over and Vera Lynn has won
Good doggy – let’s give the bark plugs a workout
Look what oi got, Farmer Giles: diamanté wellies
Powered by beetroot, the hand-me-down that keeps Russia rolling
The yummiest of ingredients but the soufflé’s gone flat
I ran into an EU busybody and didn’t feel a thing
Blimey, you’ve got this mouse to roar, Fritz
Styled for mercenaries. Driven by mummy
Simply the best, but so bashful buying one is verboten
Click away, paparazzi, I’ve got nice clean Y-fronts
Get a grip – it’s only a Roller
I know about your frilly knickers, Butch
Fritz calls it a soft-roader. I call him soft in the head
Cheer up – Napoleon got shorty shrift too
That funny noise is just Einstein hiding under the bonnet
Gosh, never thought I’d dump Kate Moss so fast
Squeeze in, Queenie, there’s space next to Tom Cruise
The wife’s away, so come check out my electric extremity
If I go back to Africa, will you take it away again?
Oh, Miss Ennis, let’s sprint to seventh heaven
Yikes! The plumber’s van has put a leak in my wallet
Gary the ram raider cracks Fermat’s last theorem
Kiss goodbye to your no-claims – Mr Fender-bender has a new toy
The nip and tuck doesn’t fool anyone, Grandma
Wuthering werewolves, a beast made for the moors
It’s certainly cheap… but I can’t find cheerful
Ooh, it feels good to wear my superhero outfit again
OK, Sister Maria, try tailgating me now
It’s Sunday, the sun is out – let’s go commando
Yo, bruv, check out da Poundland Bentley
Out with the flower power, in with the toothbrush moustache
You can keep your schnapps, Heidi – I’ll have cider with Rosie
A real stinker from Silvio, the lav attendant
Ask nicely and it’ll probably cook you dinner underwater
The pretty panzer parks on Jurgen’s golf links
I ordered a full English but ended up with bubble and squeak
The cocaine chintz has been kept in check
Thanks, guys, from the heart of my bottom
Just like Anne Boleyn, there’s no magic with the head off
Come on, caravanners, see if it will tackle the quicksand
No one can reinvent the wheel quite like you, Fritz
Great at a shooting party – for gangsters
Yippee! It’s OK to be a Bentley boy again
Thrusters on, Iron Man, this’ll cut through the congestion
They’ll be flying off the shelves at Poundland
So awful I wouldn’t even give it to my son
Off to save the planet with my African queen
Oh, I hate the noise you make in ‘wounded cow’ mode
That puts paid to my theory on the ascent of manual
Oh, how you’ll giggle while strangling that polar bear
Another bad dream in a caravan of horrors
Ooh, you make me go weak at the knees… and the hips and the spine
Mirror, signal, skedaddle – Mr Bump’s been turbocharged
Not now, Cato – keep turning the egg whisk while I push
No grid girls, no red trousers – it’s formula school run
Where does Farmer Giles eat his pork pie?
They only make one car. But it’s a nice colour
Say the magic word and the howling banshee turns sultry sorceress
Take the doors off and put them back on? That’ll be £24,000, sir
Thunderbird and Mustang have gone, so what’ll we call it, chaps?
Ha! They’ll never catch me now I’m the invisible man
Coo! A baby thunderclap from Merc’s OMG division
From the nation that brought you Le Mans… A tent with wheels
The fun begins once you’ve arm-wrestled Mary Poppins for control
Gliding gently into the parking slot reserved for losers
Where the hell did they hide the ‘keeping up with Italians’ button?
Go and play with your flow chart, Comrade Killjoy, while I floor it
Who lent Scrooge the ninja costume?
Crikey, the Terminator has joined the Carry On team
Grab her lead and forget all about the mess on the floor
Goodbye, Dino. It’s the age of the mosquito
Watch out, pedestrians, I’m packing lasers
I can see the mankini peeking out over your waistband
The crisp-baked crust hides a splodge of soggy dough
A menace to cyclists, cars, even low-flying aircraft
I’m sorry, Comrade. No Iron Curtain, no deal
You’re off by a country mile with this soggy pudding, Subaru
You can’t play bumper cars, but the bouncy castle’s brilliant
Drives on water and raises Lazarus in 4.1 seconds
Praise for Clarkson:
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