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Top Gear had been nominated for another award, and the ceremony was, inconveniently, on a Wednesday night. There would be a rush to get to London in time after the filming at Dunsfold.
The filming was over. Autographs were signed and fangirls and car-geeks alike sent home grinning. James and Richard were, amazingly, changed into Black Tie and ready to go in less than ten minutes afterwards, but Jeremy was nowhere to be seen.
“Where the fuck is Jezza?” James sighed, glancing at his watch “It’s not like he’s going to be preening or anything, is it?”
“I’ll go and look for him, mate.” Richard walked across the car park and into the portacabin, and was immediately struck by the mess on Jeremy’s desk. There were several shirts, a pile of ties, assorted shoes and was that…? No, surely not…?
“Jeremy…?”
“Hmm”
“Why do you have a Clarins bag on your desk?”
“Erm…”
“And why are you putting foundation on your face?”
“Erm…”
Jeremy Clarkson, aka Mr ‘Denim Is Right For Any Occasion’ , was normally so critical of Richard’s use of hair product and James’s habit of polishing his shoes to perfection, and yet here he was, late for an awards ceremony, poncing about in front of a mirror applying make up. Richard was almost doubled over with laughter at the sight of his colleague, but stopped, suddenly, when Jeremy sighed deeply and sat down on the chair in front of him with a look of resignation on his face.
“I look old Richard. I am old. There will be photographers tonight, and they’ll take my picture and print it in the papers and people will look at it and say I look like an old fucker. And I hate it.”
“Mate, you’re not… you’re not old. You’re forty seven, for God’s sake. That isn’t old.”
Jeremy looked up at Richard and saw youth and vitality. “It is, Richard. It’s nearly fifty. It’s... I’m knackered and fat and grey and balding.”
“My Aunty Sue was sixty last year,” Richard said “And she reckons you’re only as young as the man you feel.” He walked towards Jeremy, and raised an eyebrow, questioningly. “So are you coming to this awards bash or not?”
Jeremy stood up in front of Richard, their bodies almost touching, and a small smile crept across his face. Placing a soft kiss on Richard’s lips, Jeremy slid his hands down the smaller man’s back, resting them on his arse. He squeezed the firm buttocks, gently, and said ‘Do you know, Richard, suddenly I feel about nine years younger.”