Top Gear (2002–…): Season 29, Episode 4 - Episode #29.4 - full transcript

Hello and welcome to Top Gear,

where tonight we are celebrating
the very best of British.

It's about time. Thanks very much.

Not you, son.
We're talking about British cars.

See, as you may have noticed,
the world's

still a little bit shut down.

We can't get abroad for a big road
trip, but that's fine because we've

got everything we need right here
on our doorstep, including the cars.

Yes, if there's one thing Britain
does better than anyone else

it's grand tourers.
GTs - fast, comfy luxurious.

So we each decided to pick our
own favourite new British GT



and take them on a little driving
tour right here at home.

Who needs the south of France
or the Italian Alps

when you've got beautiful,

balmy Wales?

A country that has
all the ingredients

you need for a classic Grand Tour,
starting with the idyllic

Mediterranean-inspired
coastal village of Portmeirion.

A sophisticated classical
backdrop for the most sophisticated

and classical of GTs.

The Bentley Flying Spur -

17 feet and £170,000 of
quintessentially British GT car.

You see, a grand tourer needs to
cover great distance at great speed

and in great comfort, and for that
task there's just no better car.

This thing is supremely fast,
supremely luxurious.



It's supremely Bentley.

There is simply no better way
to grandly tour.

As Mr Flintoff was about
to demonstrate.

I can't see a GT car.
I can see a McLaren.

Andrew, you know what I'm going
to say. That is the McLaren GT.

Literally, its name, I can't get
any more GT than a McLaren GT.

Yeah, you can't just apply a name

to something and assume
it takes that role.

If you call Paddy McGuinness
a doctor of physics,

he's still a budget entertainer
from Bolton, OK?

That's a sports car.

It's not very big, not very
comfortable. It's comfortable.

It's the most comfortable McLaren
they've ever made.

It's got a massive boot in the back.

Look at that.

What? All this.
Two sets of golf clubs in there.

It's a fillet of a boot.
That's massive.

Surely GT is about comfort,
about distance,

time spent behind the wheel.
I give you comfort.

Yes, but if I was going
to go on a tour driving,

I would want to drive that car.

I'd want to sit in the back of that
one. Really? That's a limo.

Here we go.

Hang on a minute.

What is it with you two not
understanding basic instructions?

Ah!

Gentlemen, what better way
to see this beautiful part

of the world than in the ultimate
grand tourer - the Aston Martin DBX?

I don't understand why
you've turned up in that.

Other than the fact that you are a
little bit taters and from Cheshire.

Other than that, why else?

That is spot on. He's spot on.

I'm fascinated by Aston Martin's
new car,

but this is not the right
vehicle for this test.

You see, it's a bit like

when you went in the shop
and bought that top.

Is it a shirt? Is it a jumper?

Is it a coat? Is it a dishcloth?

We don't know. The main thing
is you're enjoying it.

In the 21st century,
people are grand touring in these.

They should rename this car
the Aston Martin DBX GT.

And listen - that's a limo,

that's a sports car.

I reckon, Pads, you know,
in the spirit of compromise,

why don't we agree that GTs
can come in all shapes and sizes?

Like Top Gear presenters.

Tubby, short, tall.

See? Something for everyone.

Tubby?

Now, lads, most importantly,
we've got

a chance to explore
the roads of North Wales.

It's a playground for cars,
it really is. Get in, let's go.

Now, the beauty of grand touring
in Wales, apart from the weather,

is that once you leave your idyllic
coastal village behind, the next

bit of scenery is only
just around the corner.

Look at these views.

This is stunning.

When you see roads like this,
why not just stay in Britain?

North Wales, I reckon, boys,

has some of the best driving
roads in Europe.

They really are. For demonstrating
what a road car can do,

I don't think there's a better
place around than this.

Which is just as well,
because the DBX can do a lot.

Aston Martin have dipped
their toe in the world of SUVs

and I've got to tell you - I think
they've got it absolutely spot on.

160 grand buys you a four-litre twin
turbo V8 packing 542 horsepower,

which is enough to get James Bond
and his kids all the way up to 181.

Aside from that, I love the inside
of it. It's so comfortable.

It's beautifully made,
beautifully put together.

If you're doing a Grand Tour,
this is what you want to be in.

Unless, that is, you want your Grand
Tour to be a bit more exciting.

Oh, my word.

This car wants to play.

It might not be the fastest McLaren,

but I can tell you it's fast enough.

It does 0 to 60 in 3.2 seconds,
top speed 203 mph.

People will say,
"Oh, it's too supercar."

When has that ever been a problem?

It's a McLaren.

Yes, it is,

but what it still isn't
is a proper grand tourer.

Historically, for a truly grand
Grand Tour, you needed 12 cylinders

and the Bentley has a W12 engine.

In fact, this thing is just
an orgy of numbers.

626 horsepower,
664 foot-pounds of torque

pushing two and a half tonnes -

two and a half tonnes! - to 207 mph.

How on earth do you get
something this big

and heavy to those kinds of speeds?

And it does 0 to 60 in under
four seconds. It's outrageous.

Oh, beautiful now. This is nice.

I just can't believe that
Aston Martin allowed Ford

to basically nick its grill
design from the last 30 years

because now even a Fiesta looks
like the front of that Aston Martin.

I don't mean to be sizeist, but do
you have a booster seat in that car?

The only thing about seeing
Paddy driving that car,

I actually can't see him.
I can just see his hair.

You just blend in, Paddy,
to that colour.

Chris, are you going to tell us
where we're going?

Oh, Andrew, I've got a treat here.

I've booked us a little
place by the sea.

A little place called

Anglesey circuit.

The most picturesque
racetrack in Britain,

and also one of the best to drive.

Hey, hey! Good lad, Harris.

This is a proper day out now.

You'd want to go sideways
through the quick right-hander.

Big oversteer!

Wow.

I tell you what - the absurdity
of engineering a car this big

to behave like this on
a track is wonderfully silly.

This is so much fun!

It's unbelievable, this thing.

Here we go now. Turn her in.
So nimble.

This is what a grand tourer
should be able to do.

Whoa!

This is a slippy track.

There she goes. There she goes.

Ha-ha!

Before things got out of hand,

the producers decided it was
time for some proper testing.

To see which of our GTs
was quickest,

each of us would set the fastest
time we could around the track -

and it would be a staggered start.

Lads, why are we doing
a staggered start, anyhow?

I think it's to avoid a massive very
expensive first-corner accident.

That's a very good
point, Christopher.

OK, Paddy, in three,

two, one, go!

McGuinness looking good.

He missed his apex,
but you can't have it all.

Oh, that's wet!

That's greasy.

OK, Chris, in three,

two, one, go!

Oh. Now she feels big.
Now she feels big.

OK, Freddie, in three,

two, one, go!

Come on!

Oh, twitchy.

Use all the circuit. Use all
the circuit, catch McGuinness.

Come on! I'm torn here.
I really want to go fast.

I want to beat Harris...

..but I don't want to crash the car.

Do you know what? I'm not using
this car to its full potential.

I'm going off-road.

Let's get down here.

Come on, old girl.

There's a bit of speed to be had
through here if I really gun it.

No sign of McGuinness.

I've gone a bit fast on the corners,
taken a couple a little bit wide.

Oh, I enjoyed that.

Come on, old girl.

And over the line.

Coming round, coming round.
Oh, I've gone too fast!

Come on, hang on, hang on!

Lovely stuff!

Well done, son. In the SUV.

Thank you very much, Mr Flintoff.

I mean, I think I might be

the first person who's had
the backend out in a DBX.

You know this track like the back
of your hand, Chris.

You're a racing driver.
How have I beat you?

Because you're in a McLaren,
and I'm in a limousine.

He's not best pleased.

Let's be honest - how on earth

has he got within a second of me
in that car?

It's a tonne heavier.

More's the point -
how on earth Aston's SUV had got

ahead of both of us was because
its driver is a cheating snake.

I tell you something, though,

you come round this one,
you've got to be careful.

Ha, is that what you did, Paddy?

You've just cut out half the lap.

I was showing the car's
all-round abilities.

The only thing I can say in his
defence - he's using what he's got.

That's the first piece of thinking
I've seen from Paddy McGuinness

since I met him.
Thank you very much, sir.

I tell you, though, one thing -
these three cars on this track,

this is the best country
in the world. I'll agree with that.

You don't need to go anywhere else.
We've got it all here.

We are driving round this track in
the best of British, lads.

It's a day to feel very proud, this.

Eh-up, what's going on here?

I don't know.
What IS going on here, Pad?

I'm going to go and investigate.

Right...

Portia Panamera Turbo S E-hybrid
Sport Turismo,

Mercedes AMG GT R PRO,

Audi RS Q8.

Thank you.

Britain isn't the only country

that builds great grand tourers.

So does Germany.

To find out who does it better,
your cars will now compete

against their German equivalents
in a series of challenges.

Who's driving them?

None other than one of the finest
German racing drivers of all time -

F1 legend Heinz-Harald Frentzen.

Lads, we're in a bit
of trouble here.

Those are very fast cars

and he's a very good
Formula 1 driver. How good?

Used-to-beat-Schumacher-type fast.

Hi. You all right?

Oh, God!

Lads, no disrespect here.

Bentley, McLaren, Aston...

No contest. You're sure about that?
No contest?

Challenge one...

A grand tourer must make life
easy on its driver

so you will now
compete in a cruise-control race.

McLaren versus Mercedes,

one lap of the circuit using
only the cruise-control buttons.

No touching the pedals.

Yes.

In this super GT shoot-out, it
would be Flintoff in his McLaren

against Frentzen
in a very potent Mercedes.

Capable of almost 200mph,

the GT R PRO packs almost as much
power as the McLaren

but with all the wings and fins
of a true track specialist.

So it was just as well, then,

that none of that would matter
in a cruise-control race.

Don't call him Herman.

Heinz-Harald.

So, remember you have to accelerate

and decelerate using
the cruise control.

If you put your foot on the brake
or the accelerator,

you'll get penalty points.

Roger. Understood.

Best of British to you, Heinz!

Three, two, one, go!

"Best of British to you, Heinz?"
Well, he's in our country.

I'm giving him a warm... Heinz make
ketchup. HAI-NTZ. Who? He's HAI-NTZ.

He's going very quickly for
a man just on cruise control.

God, he's going fast.
How is he going to stop?

Oh, no, he's wound it up, he's got
it, he's wound it right back. Watch.

Brake lights. Brake lights.

No, he's not. Fair play to him.
Fair play to him.

What we are seeing here is
the subtlety and skill of a genuine

F1 talent.

What are we deploying into this
competition? Ex-cricketer. Yeah.

Very well done, Heinz.

Well, we think we saw the
brake lights come on, didn't we?

At one point. Yeah, brake lights.

We saw brake lights. No. No way.

Oh, you've got your game face.

He is grinning. Look at that grin.
No way. No way.

Anyhow, this event was made
for Flintoff,

because he doesn't have
to touch a brake pedal.

Best of luck, Fred.

Three, two,

one, go!

Here we go. Get up to 30
and then get the cruise on.

Cruise. We're off. Yes!
He's under way.

Accelerating, it's not too bad.
Up to 55.

Oh! That was close.

I'm hanging on for dear life here.

I've done all right. Go on. Now out.
Out, out. Go on, pick up.

Go, go, go!

See, I think he's going too fast
there.

He's going to break here.
This is too fast.

I'm up to 88, I'm going to
slow down.

He's got to use the brakes.

Down! Slow down! I'm going
to have to touch the brakes here.

Surely he must have known
he was going too quick.

I'm going into this at 43. Oh,
it's too slow, Fred, it's too slow.

Get on with it, Flintoff!

No.

Come on now, go, go, go!

Over the line!

Come on! Go, go, go, go, go, go!

And over the line.

So, our first battle was over
and, with the dust

falling on a typically balmy Welsh
evening, the results were in.

Heinz-Harald,
you went round in 2:19:1

and you didn't touch the pedals.

Freddie, you went round in 2:22:7

and you touched the pedal once.
Oh, Fred!

That's a one-second penalty,

so the winner is Heinz-Harald

and it's 1-0 to Germany.

Thank you. Well done.

A familiar scoreline.

What are you clapping for?

What... what are you clapping?

What are you clapping?

I can't believe you lost, Fred.

Yeah, but Heinz gave it the beans,
didn't he? Oh, God!

Oh, come on, you can give me
that one. No. No? No.

Well, remember he's an F1 driver.

Stick him in the nets,
put a bat in his hand,

I'll lob a few down,
different story.

I have literally no idea
what you're talking about.

Cricket, Paddy, cricket. Oh, yeah,
that one, yeah, the boring one.

Anyhow... Oh! ..we'll get back
to that film a little later

when the challenges
get even weirder.

But as we're all about the best
of British tonight,

time for a change of pace.

Earlier this year, Britain lost
one of its true greats - legendary

racing driver Sir Stirling Moss
passed away at the age of 90.

We wanted to pay our respects.

NEWSREEL: To most people,
Stirling Moss is a legendary figure,

a white-helmeted begoggled head
flashing past at around 150mph

against a background of the
international Grand Prix circuits.

Sir Stirling Moss was everything
a racing driver should be.

Moss is in the lead.

Speeding with his usual unruffled
skill towards the finish.

Sports car, F1 car,
even land-speed racer,

he was supremely fast

whatever he drove.

Perhaps the greatest single
phenomenon in the post-war

world of motor racing has been
the rise to fame of a British

driver called Stirling Moss.

He was also supremely competitive,
taking more than 200 victories

across a career that helped

to define what it meant to be
a racing driver.

I think if you look
back on the early racing drivers

and you look at the beginning
of the '50s, you know,

Stirling Moss stood out from that
crowd as young, focused,

the first professional
Grand Prix driver.

We met as two very keen
young drivers wishing to try

and make their way in motor racing
and we were

both very, very competitive,

but you appreciated that you were

taking your life in your hands,

and Stirling recognised it was

dangerous and was a professional
through and through.

But Stirling Moss was,
above all else, a gentleman,

a man of his word.

Just ask Ferrari.

In the early '50s,

Moss is the brightest young
thing on the racing scene.

A series of barnstorming
victories bring him to

the attention of the most powerful
man in motorsport, Enzo Ferrari.

In August 1951,
at the age of just 21,

Moss gets the call from Enzo
asking him to drive for Ferrari.

It's a rare opportunity.

Ferrari is the biggest,
richest race team on the planet

and no Englishman has ever
driven for them before.

Imagine the excitement for
a young racer with their dream drive

so tantalisingly close.

I went all the way down to
Bari in southern Italy

with my father, being thrilled
that I had been offered to go

and drive for Ferrari.
I mean, this is really the thing.

But when Moss gets there, he finds
Enzo has reneged on their deal

and given the car to a veteran
Italian driver instead.

I found that the car had been
given to Taruffi.

Not that I felt anything about
Taruffi - I don't blame him -

but I think they might have
cabled me and said,

"Look, Mr Taruffi's got the car,"

and I was pretty annoyed.
This really hurt you, Stirling?

I wouldn't say it hurt me,
but it sure got me fired up.

Boy, did it!

1955 - the Mille Miglia.

A thousand-mile nonstop charge
around Italy's public roads.

It is Moss's first opportunity
to exact his revenge on Enzo's

ungentlemanly conduct.

One of the most dangerous races
on the calendar held in Ferrari's

own back yard, it is considered

all but impossible to win
without local knowledge.

Ferrari are heavy favourites,
but Moss - driving a beautiful

Mercedes 300 SLR - has a secret
weapon - well, two secret weapons.

The first - a fearless
navigator in the form of eccentric

motoring journalist Denis Jenkinson.

The second was this.

Moss called it the bog roll -

a detailed guide to every corner

and every hazard
on the 1,000-mile route.

Basically prototype pace notes.

As Moss drove like a madman,
Jenkinson would scroll through this

and translate the notes into hand
signals for Stirling to understand.

Talk about trust.

To maintain the schedule
of the Mille Miglia,

cars travel at up to 180mph,

often on bad roads with additional
hazards from crowds of spectators.

Covering the 1,000-mile course
in ten hours and seven minutes,

Moss doesn't just beat
the Italians - he obliterates them.

Can you imagine driving
the roads of Italy for 1,000 miles

at an average speed of 99mph?

Even if they closed the roads today,
that would be somewhat challenging.

In the end, Moss finishes
over half an hour ahead

of the second-placed Ferrari.

It is the greatest feat of
endurance driving in history.

A superhuman effort.

And after celebrating
the win with his team,

he doesn't turn in
for a well-earned kip -

oh, no, he drives through the night,

across the Alps to Germany

to meet a girl... for lunch.

Moss may have played hard against
Ferrari but he also played fair.

At the 1958 Portuguese Grand Prix,
stewards disqualify Mike Hawthorne -

Moss's closest title rival -
for restarting his stalled Ferrari

by pushing it the wrong way
back onto the track.

Moss wins but is incensed.

He complains to the stewards,

insisting his rival
has done nothing wrong.

Convinced by his argument,
they reinstate the Ferrari

driver's points and he joins
Moss for the winner's lap of honour.

It was very, very
sporting of Stirling to defend Mike.

I don't know
any other driver, frankly,

who would have done
that for anybody.

That year, Moss loses

the championship to Hawthorn
by one single point,

the fourth year in a row
he's finished second.

If it wasn't for his sportsmanship,
he'd have won the title.

Moss didn't just live for the win -

he lived for the challenge...

..again and again getting
behind the wheel of underdog cars

just to see if he could embarrass
the bigger, better-funded teams.

If you can take a private car
and then beat the factory

with their very latest cars,
it is far more exhilarating.

And, as if the challenge
wasn't already great enough,

this was his attitude during
Formula One's most lethal era.

Imagine barrelling around a street
circuit at 100-and-something mph

between buildings and lampposts,
knowing that the slightest

mistake could be the end of you,
wearing only these for protection...

..and driving this.

The Lotus 18.

A fragile spindle of metal
weighing less than half a tonne.

A machine dedicated solely to speed

and lightness
with no concession to safety.

Crash protection? Forget it.

Stirling didn't even bother
with side panels.

But it was in this very car
that Sir Stirling gave us

his greatest F1 drive of all.

One of the great sporting
performances of all time,

at the 1961 Monaco Grand Prix.

All around the twisting,
turning 1.9 mile circuit

spectators are gathered.

Up the hill from Sainte Devote,

Moss keeps the veteran Lotus
well up amongst

a field of brand-new 1961 models.

Though a competitive car
the previous year,

by 1961, Moss's Lotus 18
is hopelessly outdated.

Up against a trio of powerful,
new sharp-nosed Ferraris,

he isn't expected to make
the podium,

let alone challenge for victory.

But Moss, typically, decides to
prove a point to old Enzo.

Even though he was way down
on power in his little Lotus...

..Stirling took the lead early
and he refused to give it back.

With the Ferrari
as his constant shadow,

Stirling demonstrates what happens
when an irresistible force

of Ferraris meets
an immovable object like Moss.

Those two Ferraris took turns
trying to catch him

but he held them off
for the whole race,

wringing every ounce of performance
from this tiny racing car.

Oh!

It's so delicate and light
and responsive.

The steering just takes tiny inputs

and it just squirms around
in your hand.

Edging to a 1.5-litre Coventry
Climax, about 150 horsepower,

but this thing weighs under 450kg!

For the race, he had the side panels
removed for more ventilation.

And the sense of exposure
is humbling.

I mean, I can stick my arm out.
Look at that.

And look at my seatbelts.

Well, you can't look at my seat
belts, because there aren't any.

Oh!

And you, Chris, just for ten
minutes, can be Stirling Moss.

This is my childhood fantasy.

Hoo-hoo!

On days like these, Chris,

on days like these...

I think I'm a bit teary.

And the flag falls
for Stirling Moss.

Moss, against all the odds,
drove one of his greatest races.

Through the tight streets of Monaco,

he held them off for three hours,

winning the race by three seconds.

What a performance.

What a machine!

Moss's Monaco drive wasn't just
one of the greatest of his career -

it was enough to make
the famously stubborn Enzo Ferrari

finally swallow his pride.

He invites Moss
to Ferrari's headquarters

and lays on a reception
fit for the Pope.

"I need you," Enzo tells Moss.

"Tell me the car you want
and I'll build it for you."

"OK," says Moss,
"I'll drive a Ferrari,

"but not a red one -
paint it blue - like my Lotus."

The deal is done.

The fastest driver on the F1 grid
will drive the fastest car

on the F1 grid.

The World Championship
will surely now be Moss's.

But before Stirling can make his
debut for Ferrari,

disaster strikes.

In early 1962,
before the start of the F1 season,

Moss is racing heat at Goodwood
in a Lotus when he has a crash,

right here on this corner.

A huge crash.

I had had a stop, I'd lost time,
I was passing,

as far as I can understand it,

a place that I would never consider
passing under normal conditions.

I wasn't dicing for the
last corner of the last lap.

All I do know is that
I went off the road in a place that

I never should have gone off.

The impact is devastating,
smashing Stirling's back, his skull

and both legs.

World reaction staggered even
his closest friends and admirers.

The burning question became -
would he ever drive again?

In a coma for a month,

Moss's condition isn't just
national news,

it's international news.

Frank Sinatra regularly calls
the hospital to find out how

the English racing driver is doing.

Moss survived, but the crash
didn't just end his season -

it ended his career.

Once he'd recovered his fitness,

he discovered he'd lost
that racing edge,

those whip-crack reactions,
and he retired immediately.

At the age of just 32,

Stirling Moss' F1 career was over -

and he never did get
that F1 drive for Ferrari.

So, motor racing loses
one of its brightest stars.

We salute a great driver.

Moss would always be known
as the greatest racer never to win

the F1 drivers' title.

Somehow, in terms of Stirling Moss,
that doesn't mean much.

He has established a new
set of values in motor racing

and he is the standard
by which motor racing is judged.

He was someone
that embraced commitment,

bravery,

and was modest to the end.

He always had my admiration

and I will admire Stirling

to the day I die.

And maybe, after all,
Moss was lucky.

In the '50s and '60s,
if you raced in F1 for five years,

there was a 75% chance you'd die.

Moss managed ten years, so by rights
he should have been dead twice over.

Retirement almost certainly
robbed him of the world title

he so richly deserved
but it meant we could enjoy

the company of this brilliant man
for another 60 years.

In our minds,
we shall always remember him

immaculate in blue
with white helmet,

an air of calm serenity masking
an all-out tense, tense effort...

..and going like
the hammers of hell.

Sir Stirling Moss wasn't just
one of our greatest racing drivers -

he was one of our greatest men.

The very best of British.

He was one of a kind. There will
never be another one like him.

Really sad. True sporting legend.
Absolutely. Absolutely.

And now it's time to get back
to our grand tourer showdown, where,

as you'll remember, we were
taking on the might of Germany.

Fred had lost
the first head-to-head,

but there was still
plenty more to play for.

Day two of our Welsh Grand Tour
and our battle against our German

GT rivals continued at
the magnificent Plas Newydd estate.

Next up, it would be Bentley versus
Porsche in a trial of comfort,

each taking a willing test dummy
hooked up to a heart rate

monitor for a relaxing
ride in the passenger seat.

Well, "a" passenger seat.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear, dear.

Now, you've seen some things in your
life, but you've never seen that.

Don't want to stress him, Chris.

It's about keeping
his heart rate down.

Which would be easier
said than done.

Because, in a timed lap
of the grounds, each car would have

to negotiate twisting gravel tracks,

a steep descent whose run-off
area is the sea,

plus a smattering of bushes,
branches and low-grip grass.

But the passenger whose heart rate
spiked the highest

would cost their team
a time penalty.

So, reassuringly,

smoothness would be as important
as speed in this test.

How are you feeling?

There's a safety aspect to this.

The thing is,
I do feel like a massive jockey.

Yeah, on a very comfortable horse.

Should we have the flying B
up or down? Always up.

Because the Germans can't do that,

they can't say, "Do you want your
Porsche badge up or down," can they?

No, exactly.

Oh, fantastic.

You've just put that up, it's
something else to impale myself on.

Right, gentlemen,
are you ready? Yeah.

We're 1-0 down. Best
of British to you. We need this.

Three, two, one, go!

Oh, go on, Harris!

Oh, God.

Go on, Chris, as fast as you want,
son, I don't mind. This is amazing.

Fred, you are a lunatic!

Why would you tell him,
"Go as fast as you want"?

Now, a normal person should find
this kind of thing at least

a little bit unsettling.

I would not want to be up there.

But good news for Team Britain -

Flintoff is not normal.

Actually, I think he'll be fine.

Cos Fred's got the resting
heart rate of a blue whale.

This morning, I had to put a mirror
under his nose to check

he were breathing.

Come on, Benters.

Just pottering round
a country estate.

What does that feel like up there?
What does that feel like up there?

The air suspension just glides.

Mind the tree.

This is so narrow.

Silence. He's either crashed or...

..he's put it into comfort mode.

Oh, yes, he's going sideways.

It's like we're driving
into the sea.

Please stop. Please stop.
Right in the ABS. It won't stop.

King of the world!

Oh, ho, ho! Don't want to stop.

It's so big.

It's quite a treat, this.

Oh, bottomed out.
Go on, Chris, give it some.

He's encouraging me to go faster!

Whoa.

Proper tight down here.

Oh.

Here we are.

He's been eating a banana.

Nicely done, Chris. What do you
reckon, Fred? What do you reckon?

I tell you what - it was bloody
lovely up here, Chris. So smooth.

Well driven, mate.

I'm glad you had a bit of fun, lads.

Nice to see you're happy.

I were going to say go and chill out
but you look quite relaxed.

I'm so happy. This air suspension
and Chris Harris, oh, -

it's a lovely fusion.

Right, next up's the Porsche. Well,
who's going on the roof of that?

I've done mine.

Oh, yes, McGuinness was up.

And strapped to the top of one
of Porsche's fastest Panamiras.

You all right?

With nearly 50 horsepower
more than the Bentley

and better acceleration, Germany
looked to have the upper hand.

Especially since McGuinness
had raided the big house

for a comforter
in a surprising bid to play fair.

Now, listen, lads,
I know we're all on the same team,

but the world's watching and
we've got to show what Britain

does best,
and that's being sportsmanlike,

so I'm trying to
stay as calm as possible.

Is the roof supposed to

have all those creases in it
where the sucker cups are?

I wouldn't know. It's not something
I've done that often.

Have you noticed there's a lot fewer
sucker cups than he had for his run?

Like half as many. Yes. Yes.

Listen, I appreciate you're trying
to get my heart rate up

and I'm on your team, essentially.
I want you to win, but...

What else makes him get wound up?
Hair. Yeah.

I'm not getting involved.

Second funniest man from Bolton,
maybe third because Peter Kay...

I'm sat at home as a young child
on my bed cuddling my teddy.

No, you're not - you're looking at a
long straight before a stately home.

That thing could be doing 90 by
the time you get there. 90, Paddy.

Heinz, you OK? Yeah. Yeah?
Alles Gute.

Don't do the German accent to him

before he's got to drive
with me on the roof.

OK, I think we're ready to go.
OK, are you ready?

Drei, zwei, eins... Los!

Auf Wiedersehen!

Did you see it go?

Oh, my God.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no. Oh, no, no, no, no,
no, no. He's like a rag doll.

A ragdoll working
well for Team Britain.

That's a tree!

That's a... Oh, my...

And while I had been
at least a little bit

concerned about
my rooftop passenger...

..it turned out Frentzen...
Teddy... wasn't.

Heinz, he doesn't really care,
does he?

He hasn't come all the way here
from the Fatherland to basically

come second, has he?

No. No.

Nein! Nein!

Do you know what? If I didn't live
in England, I'd live in Germany.

I love Germany.

Right.

Slower, Heinz! Oh, no! Oh, God.

And I do love a sausage.

Me too, but I'm not moving
all the way to Germany for one.

Yeah, but their sausages are great.

Not when you can get
a Richmond in Asda.

Slower!

Pffffff!

I think I just swallowed
a bluebottle.

A Cumberland wheel.

Oh, I do like a Cumberland wheel
with a stick through it.

Yeah? Yeah.

Oh, this is not good!

Nein! Nein!

Nein!

Oh, Jesus, the backend's out.

Oh, God!

Aaaaaaaaah!

All good?

What?

In the list of unpleasant things
you've done, how high up was that?

That's, uh, just under
the Wall Of Death

and just above vasectomy.

So, yeah, not nice.

The question was, though,
which team had come out on top?

Well, the results are in, gentlemen.

Team Britain...

Yes. That's us, isn't it?

Two minutes 20.7.

No idea if that's good or bad.
It felt fast.

Team Germany...

Two minutes... Yep... 20.7. No!

Shut up! No way. Exactly...
Exactly the same.

Shut up.
I don't think I've ever seen that.

Do you know, the thing I like is
the difference in reactions.

Chris is really happy,
Heinz-Harald not so.

So, lads, it all comes down
to the heartbeats.

It's me versus the blue whale.
Here we go. OK.

Freddie, you peaked at 160bpm.

Really? That's high.

That's high.

I peaked at 16... 9 bpm. Wow.

It's a win for Team Britain.

Nine beats, Heinz-Harald,
that's not much.

I'm sorry, I've let you down, son,
I was trying my best to stay calm.

I couldn't drive any slower.
Come on!

It didn't feel that slow
when I was up there.

Excuse me.

Well done, boys. Well done,
your heart rate. Good lad.

It's come in handy, that.

Right, 1-1. It's all on the decider.

How many people can say,

"I sat on top of a Porsche
driven by Heinz-Harald"?

Yeah, you're certainly
in a select group.

I don't know how many people can say
they've sat on top of Chris Harris.

Oh, there's a long queue there,
Fred.

I'm not going to lie -
it was an absolute treat.

Before we could explore that
little road any further,

it was time for the last
of our grand tourer showdowns.

And the decider would play
out against the spectacular

backdrop of Penrhyn Quarry.

What have we got here?

A challenge.

A great Grand Tour should be
quick in the hands of even a novice

driver, no matter
the road conditions.

It's time to see if the Aston
has what it takes in a time trial

hill climb. There's only one Aston
driver, isn't there?

I have every faith in you.
Thank you, sir.

And, also, one little note, Fred,
your reading's getting better.

I don't know -
I stumbled over "tourer".

It's getting there, though.
You got the gist. You got the gist.

That's pretty nippy, though,

and it's got
Heinz-Harald behind the wheel.

I was going to say - that's
no novice. No. That's no novice.

Although I don't think
his speciality is quarry skidding.

Is that yours, though, Paddy? No,
not really, but we'll give it a go.

Paddy, Paddy, Paddy, it's 1-1.

It's the best of British. Ah.

It's all on you, son.

Yes, to see if the Aston could
make even a driver like McGuinness

quick over a challenging road,

our final GT test would be
a hill climb with a difference.

In a timed run up a winding gravel
track to the finish line

at the top of the quarry,

Frentzen would set off first
in Audi's devastatingly quick

592 horsepower RS Q8,
with McGuinness following a few

seconds later in his slower,
less powerful DBX.

And to prove the Aston's worth

in this true uphill battle,
Paddy would have to finish

within ten seconds
of Frentzen's time, which,

as the producers were keen to point
out, was one second for every

year the German legend had spent in
F1, at the pinnacle of motorsport.

But, whatever the result,
the winner would be rewarded with

the quick way back down the hill.

The one thing he will do, Paddy,
he'll push. He'll push it so hard.

He is competitive. Yeah.
He'll risk going off the side.

OK, Heinz-Harald,

in three, two, one, go!

You can see him here. Look at him -
he's going, he's going.

And Paddy McGuinness,

in three, two, one, go!

Come on!

Look at that. Go on, here he is.

Woohoo!

It sounds good. Noisy.
It sounds good.

Whoa, there's still dust down
from Heinz's run.

Got to get within ten seconds...
Of Heinz Harald. Come on, Pad.

Oh, this is... sketchy!

Bad news for Team Britain - if
Frentzen wasn't a quarry specialist,

he was doing one hell of a job
at faking it.

Wow.

Do you think he's got a chance?
Well, it looks bloody fast.

Look at the rooster tail of dust
coming off the back of it.

Come on.

McGuinness was giving it his all.

I am doing a bit of rallying

in a £160,000 Aston Martin DBX.

But approaching the halfway mark,
to stand any chance...

Whoa-whoa-whoa!

..he'd have to find another level.

Would you describe
Paddy McGuinness as a brave man?

I've always said there's a fine line
between bravery and stupidity. Yep.

Paddy had never treaded that line.
He's stupid. Yeah.

Again, again, again,
go on, go on, go on.

Come on, go, go.

I'm doing it for Gareth Southgate,

I'm doing it for Stuart Pearce.

I'm doing it for Chrissie Waddle,

Darius Vassell.

This is for you, boys!

Come on. Where are they? Where are
they? Oh, there they are, see? See?

Left turn, left turn, left turn,
let's go, go, go, go.

That's going to cost me
a few seconds.

I think he's more than ten seconds,
don't you?

I think he's struggling here.
Come on, Pad.

Oh!

So slidy.

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Come on.

As Frentzen barrelled
across the finish line...

Come on!

..McGuinness had just
a ten-second window to win.

Where are they?

Oh!

Oh, ho, ho!

Ha!

Are they done?

I have literally
no idea how I did then.

So, with both cars safely to the top
of the climb,

the only question now was

had our novice driver and
his underdog Aston done enough?

I think we're going to get
the news imminently.

This is like when they deliver

the Eurovision results, you know,
you're just waiting.

"It was slippy, lads. I couldn't
see." Here we go, here we go. Go on.

Not good news, I'm afraid.

One of you is going to have to
get your hands in your pocket,

get down the off-licence
and buy us some champagne,

cos we did it, boys!

Well done, Paddy, my son.

I've got to tell you - the position
I'm in at the minute,

Chris, I don't feel like a winner.

Oh, ho, ho!

Oh, my God!

There he is. I've got him. I've got
him here. He looks like a meteor.

Woo!

I am flying!

Oh, he's lit up. He's like
a rubbish Halley's Comet.

Woo!

Here he comes.

Yes, boys, we've done it!

Oh, Jesus.

Go on, Paddy, lad.

Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho!

That got the old bottom twitching,
boys - let me tell you.

Paddy, that is a great effort
and a great result for Team GB.

A great result.

Paddy, I'm not going to say this
very often, but I'm proud of you.

Thank you, boys. Well done, Paddy,
lad. We did it, brothers. We did it.

Well done, mate. Come on, let's go.

Boys?

Lads, what about Team GB spirit
and all that?

Boys?

Boys!

I can't feel my legs.

I'm getting pins and needles, lads.

Finally, 2-1.

All right. All right.

2-1.

Yes!

2-1 to Britain! Finally, we beat
the Germans in a penalty shoot-out.

And it's all thanks to
these beautiful British cars.

Look at them.

Is now a good time to mention
that Bentley is owned by a German

company and the Aston is
kind of full of German bits?

Why do you always have to ruin it?
It's facts.

These cars are as British as
Marmite. Invented by a German, Pad.

What, Marmite? Yes. Really? Yes.
News to me, that one, as well.

To be honest, they can keep it.

Let's focus on
what's important here.

I just beat a guy with three -
three - Formula 1 wins.

That officially makes me
an F1 legend. Thank you.

Thank you. Shush.

Paddy, stop it. Paddy,
it's not conkers, Pad.

You don't take all
the wins of someone you've beat.

And you didn't even beat him - you
just managed to keep up with him.

Can we talk about
the cars now, lads?

Normally, this is the point
where we have a big argument

about which is best,

but actually all three of them
are pretty wonderful.

We're all in agreement.
If I could hug you both, I would.

This doesn't happen
very often here. Fantastic.

Three brilliant British GTs.

Two of them aren't technically GTs,
but you know...

Oh, have a day off, Chris,
will you? Geez.

That's it until next week, which is
the last show of the series,

and get your tickets early
because it's a blockbuster.

Strictly, eat your heart out.

Top Gear's doing Blackpool!

See you, then! Good night!