Last night, my friend Stephen sent me a text message which announced that he was about to watch the first episode of season three of Supernatural and that it was like “hugging an old friend”.
I thought that was a wonderful analogy (and, as it turns out, was precisely how it felt when I watched the episode, too), so I’m going to use it to describe the return of another show I love: Top Gear, which embarked on its new series earlier this evening.
As ever, it was anarchic and daft and just a little offensive, but the best bit came when Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond and James May went to Stelvio in Italy and ended up on this road…
… which Clarkson described as “fifteen miles of ashphalt spaghetti dropped on an Alp.”
I’m now so intimidated by this feat of verbal brilliance that I’ve decided to give up being a writer. Instead, I’m going to live in a cowshed in Tibet and stare at the mountains all day.
(Incidentally, I have a long-lost brother – who I haven’t seen since 1995 thanks to his globetrotting – and he really did live in a cowshed in Tibet for a while. For all I know, he’s sitting in one right now. Must run in the family…)