Up on the roof a naked Top Gear presenter smears himself with jam. One final pleasure in the abject misery of his self-knowledge.
He's distressed, we can hear that now. Sobs wrack his body, and somehow threaten to spoil the moment for a moment. But now he's back on track, throwing the coil of three-core around his neck. He checks the knot, and steps off the edge. Now before the cord pulls tight, he shouts; "I'm Jeremy Clarkson, please forgive me!" and the windows all around fly open, and a thousand voices cry out; "No fucking way." As his spine is snapped apart, I'm thinking; 'God, I hope he heard them'.
(drimblehe'd been white, he'd been black,
Tue 10 Mar 2015, 22:56,
archived)
Not again
Clarkson got drunk again. He tripped over his shoelace, raspberry jam happened while spaghetti spilled from his pockets.