My dearest darling Jeremy Clarkson,

I love you too,

I love you on a “cellular” level,

On a brain-cellular level that is,

Not much to love, is there?

Unlike you, I don’t lie in bed at night “grinding my teeth”,

Because I have a healthy, vigorous sex life,

Well, I’ve got a life!

And I wouldn’t dream of having you “paraded naked” through the streets,

No,...

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You truly are my automare

My four-wheeled bankruptcy

My fuel-injected money pit

Made from steel and reformed shit

A velour upholstered credit card hit

Five gears of utter hell

We got off to the worst of starts

And it went downhill from there

Grinding brakes and groaning springs

Ropey tyres and front wheel spins

These are a few of my least favourite ...

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