HowTo:Become a Top Gear Presenter
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So you want to be a Top Gear presenter eh? I don't blame you! Who could resist such a tempting prospect? All the money, the fast cars and the
hot chicks. With this simple step-by-step guide you'll be well on your way to appearing weekly on this magnificent beacon of British broadcasting.
Step 1: Kill a Top Gear presenter
Now I know this may sound a little harsh, but don't you dare pretend you haven't thought about this before, I AM TIRED OF YOUR LIES. Clarkson, the alpha male will probably be the hardest to kill, but also the most satisfying. Richard 'ShortArse' Hammond will snap like a twig if you so much as breathe on him, but
rocket penises also do the trick ironically the pint-sized petrolhead appears to thrive on being planted head-first into to the Earth at over 400 MPH.
James May, on the other hand, is barely alive as it is. Another option to consider, and the best, most entertaining of all, is to kill all three (actually four including The Stig), and replace them with Page 3 girls.
This is essential if you are to become a success on the show: from now on you vote for the Conservative party and wear jeans constantly. Don't argue. Any shirt you wear must have at least the top four buttons undone, with your manly 'clocksprings' (or 'chest-wig' in pre-pubescent Hammond's case) clearly on display. GRRR! You are a Tiger! Whenever you appear on screen you shall survey the cheaply made 'studio' with an air of smug satisfaction, before smiling benignly and ranting about the latest turbo-megahydrite pro-benzium TX43 engine no-one gives a fuck about. Indulge in a few in-jokes about obscure car references to the idiots who watch your show. And it is your show. Notice how the audience members gaze adoringly at your curly hair and supple frame; how they don't sit but just stand there, vacantly staring, only breaking this hibernation by periodically laughing hysterically at your antics. When you wake up in the morning, after you slip on your skinny jeans and pastel shirt (Also a leather jacket in a child's size if you are replacing Hammond) sip down a couple of Espresso’s and jump into your super car Dukes of Hazzard style, safe in the knowledge that you are A FUCKING GOD!
Step 3: The Voice
In order to succeed at Top Gear-ery you must take on the voice and mannerisms of Clarkson. By far the easiest stage is to be a complete fuckwit. Next, you must speak with the same cadence he does. Treat every sentence as a bifurcated structure, pause for
effect in the middle no matter how much this may damage the sense of what you are saying or make you appear to have had a stroke (if you have mastered stage one what you are saying makes no sense and a stroke would in any case triple your IQ). Now think of your sentence as a staircase with a landing in the middle. Your voice is going down that staircase and the English language is being mugged and pissed on on the landing. If it's too painful at first to practise with actual words (which still make up 58% of James May's noises), try nonsense: be dooby dooby do ...be dooby dooby do, Jabbedy something insulting about the French ...jibbedy something hurtful about Gypsies and so on. You may be reminded of the patterning of Anglo-Saxon verse; in which case you are displaying knowledge of a culture outwith that of a suburban 1970's BNP cheese-and-nibbles fundraiser and are so desperately unsuited to being a Top Gear presenter. Also, from now on you shall put emphasis on roughly every second word for no reason. You may not describe a car without first using a 'hilarious' simile such as: "It drives like Mike Tyson being chased by a Hungarian Billionaire on Crack!". Or "The Lorenzo Begatti handles like the King of Siam playing a fiddle made of noodles on a Cornish tightrope. Words like 'Bonkers!' and 'Blimey!' are apparently still culturally relevant and must be exclaimed at least 408 times per show. At the end of every show, the words "And on that bombshell, good night" MUST be said. No ifs or buts. It's the rule.
Step 4: Reviewing the Cars
Hyperbole is a must, for the first 3 minutes of your review you will praise the car as if it were the second coming of Christ made of chocolate. Then for the last 3 minutes you will contradict everything you just said and insult the manufacturers and the car's country of origin. For example
Driving this car is like getting a blowjob from Anne Hathaway whilst eating a bowl of Prozac, the steering is spot on, the suspension is perfect, the interior is as sleek as Condoleezza Rice dipped in honey whilst playing a Spanish flute. All this for only 20 grand, you must buy this car!
BUT! and this is a big but, the car is actually shit, driving it is like listening to Bohemian Rhapsody backwards with the sound off. The steering is clunky, the interior is outdated, and for 30 grand? 30 THOUSAND POUNDS? You'd have to be bonkers to buy this old dinosaur! Maybe if the German developers spent more time designing the car instead of invading Poland, they'd get a better result!