The King is Dead

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There are a handful of high profile guys who are at or about my age. I’m exactly the same age as Colin Firth, I’m a day older than Hugh Grant, I’m a couple of months older the ┬áNeil Gamin and a few months younger than Jeremy Clarkson. These folk are like portraits of Dorian Grey to me. I watch them age and progress and can’t help but measure myself against them…at-least in terms of grey hair and waist line.

So it was with some sorrow that I learned that one of my portraits fell off the wall the other day. Jeremy Clarkson is clearly a bit of an SOB. He’s hosted Top Gear (the BBC’s most successful show world wide) since 1998 and following a punch up he started with a show producer the other day he’s now the ex-host of the BBC’s most successful show. I love Top Gear, I love car shows in general but Top Gear goes well beyond just being a car show…it’s a institution. Clarkson was the clever, funny, snarky, mean host who took no prisoners and his audience loved him. He epitomized the angry white guy who loves cars and can’t stand or understand much of the world that surrounds him. Unfortunately he was also a bad tempered tall guy with a serious streak of entitlement and more than a smattering of casual racism. Until recently he’s been able to skate on various allegations of extreme rudeness and casual racism simply because he is beloved in 17 countries around the world and the $250M the BBC makes out of the show got him a lot of rope.

His latest escapade, in which he insulted then assaulted a producer who had the effrontery to provide a cold meal rather than the hot one we felt he needed was clearly the last straw. The BBC understandably felt that nobody (not even Clarkson) is above the law and they had to fire him. He clearly over stepped the mark and you can see the Beebs point of view…but it’s still a huge disappointment. Top Gear was one of the few places on the BBC where political correctness and beige thinking so prevalent both on the BBC and in society was mocked with tongue planted firmly in cheek. Clarkson called BS on what he saw as BS. He hated the ‘Nanny State’ mentality where everything is regulated and frowned upon. He wanted a world where middle class white guys could drive huge cars as fast as they wanted, where “ladies” knew their place and “damn foreigners” were seen but not heard. It was funny to hear him fume and rant…but when parody became punching out a producer, he was done.

Close to a million Brits signed an online petition to get him his job back and a handful of knuckleheads resorted to threats against the guy he punched out. I have no way of telling, but I’m reasonably sure the demographic of the petitioners skews towards white, middle class men who also feel put upon, disenfranchised and thoroughly annoyed by the Nanny State.

As I look at the remaining portraits in my Dorian Grey hall of fame, I don’t see quite the same anger and frustration which drove Clarkson. They seem to be more or less routinely charming, affable, witty guys who (aside from a couple of minor indiscretions) ┬áhave grown older with a level of grace. We will miss you Mr. Clarkson…..you idiot!

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