BROADCASTER, writer and misogynistic fantasist Jeremy Clarkson has travelled the world spreading ignorance, but which nationalities is he perfectly okay with?
In my time as lead swinging dick on Top Gear, I had beef across the international date line. Crybaby Mexicans, touchy Argentinians, morbidly obese Americans and the Germans, who we beat in the war. But I’m no tubthumping xenophobe. I have absolutely no issue with any of these:
The Kiwis
New Zealand is a beautiful, verdant isle which reminds me of rural Oxfordshire, but with better weather. The people who live there are delightful, their accents are hilarious, they’re happy to be figures of fun. I love visiting their conservation parks, blasted out of my tree on Sauvignon Blance, swerving a hired Range Rover all over the roads.
The Jamaicans
English but black, the Jamaicans have a party spirit I can’t get enough of. The nightlife is so vibrant and alive it completely obscures, for me, the poverty and social problems which blight the nation itself outside of its gated resorts. They call me Jem Man over there, with a fondness that suggests, to me, that colonialism wasn’t so bad after all.
The Tuvaluans
A tiny island nation with the smallest road network in the world, my favourite? I know, makes you reconsider whether everything the media says about me, especially the bad stuff, is wrong. With only 8km of tarmac I airdrop in whatever supercar I like and drive blissfully traffic-free. Don’t hit anybody, though. There’s only 11,000 of them so they’ll notice.
The Canadians
I bestow the Canadians with this honour for putting up with their neighbours to the south. Any nation that can sit side by side with America for 200 years has my undying respect. Give me Montreal any day over Los Angeles with its podcasts, its wellness crazes, that woman I’ve been specifically forbidden by ITV’s legal team to mention.
The Vietnamese
The Vietnam War was the best war, wasn’t it? Televisually, not in terms of justice or results. Sadly I was too young and British to leap onto a Huey and zap Charlie Cong myself, so had to make do with driving a Ferrari, banging on about horsepower and offending cyclists. That was my Khe Sanh. Anyway, the people here are delightful and the food’s great.
The proud, indefatigable people of Micronesia
I’ve never bothered them and they’ve never bothered me. Therefore I’ve got no problem with them. Alright? Is that enough? Am I allowed back in the media fold until the next time?
