There is really not that much I feel I can say about last night. Clarkson, May and Hammond Live was entertaining, but I can’t decide what to make of it. It was essentially a bit like watching an episode of Top Gear interspersed with other car-based acts. These were introduced by the three gentlemen of the title, and were, for the most part, very impressive indeed: there was a performance of precision driving which reminded me of the wheelchair displays that I did at school. Imagine four cars whizzing around the centre of the o2 arena at high speed, choreographed as precisely as any ballet. In between these performances, Clarkson, May and
Hammond basically did the type of things they used to do on the tv – arse about like twits. The banter between them was amusing, although they made a few jibes at the bbc which got a few sympathetic boos from the audience; they also made a big thing of having to avoid saying anything offensive. There were no moments of epic greatness though; nothing that took the night to the level of, say, watching Mont Python Live. Of course, these shows were planned as Top Gear Live, before Clarkson’s fall-out with the beeb; I suppose events since it’s conception caused it to change it’s tone. Thus the show had an odd, kind of edgy tone to it – it felt like there was a kind of elephant in the room, something at which people were angry. I came out of the show entertained, yet with an odd taste in my mouth. It may have contained all the elements I expected, but that was not quite the show I bought tickets for all those months ago.