(Late replies again, because my computer is an idiot.)
I adore Jeremy. He is wonderful. His logic for this probably is that even when he actually is a girl, he's still more manly than Richard (er, this sounds a little mean. Sorry Hammond!) (I really am stalking you. *waggles fingers spookily*)
"Don't insult my fans, Hammond. They're better than yours."
Hammond goggled at him, aghast. "They?! There's one, and at the moment she's you, so I don't think she counts!"
"Exactly, she's me. So she's better-looking than all of your fans."
"You are the most narcissistic man I have ever met. 'Go screw yourself' probably sounds like an interesting suggestion to you."
"Don't you talk to me about narcissism, Hammond. I've seen you grinning at yourself in the mirror. You look like a prat. And I have good reason to be narcissistic; I'm bloody fantastic. I mean," he gestured to Harriet, "look at me."
Richard made a strange noise in between a disdainful snort and a laugh. "You're seven feet tall; you have 'I've-just-been-electrocuted' hair; you're going bald; you have enough spare tyres to put Goodyear out of business; your teeth are bright yellow..."
"Ha!" Jeremy cut him off, sounding triumphant. "Teeth are a subject you know a great deal about, aren't they? I bet all those girls who think they like you have just been blinded by your unnaturally white teeth."
"I haven't had my teeth whitened, Jeremy; I just brush them from time to time. You might want to try it too. And my other points still stand."
"I am attractive, Hammond. Do I need to remind you about the time you told me I had a strangely gorgeous arse? You know you want me, Hammond; the evidence is piling up."
Harriet blinked. "Er... what evidence?"
Jeremy smiled a slightly wolfish smile. "I want to know how exactly you fell for me, first."
Hammond interrupted. "There's no evidence. Don't tell him how you decided he wasn't the ugliest bloke on telly, after all; it'll only encourage him."
"Oh, there's evidence, Hammond. And don't try to downplay the fact that I have fangirls. I always knew the female population of Britain would eventually wake up to the fact that I am clearly the best-looking Top Gear presenter."
Hammond turned to glare at Harriet. "See what you have done? Me and May are going to have to put up with this smugness for weeks. You're not saying another word about how not-hideous he is."
(Richard has clearly given up on keeping his eyes on the road.)
no subject
I adore Jeremy. He is wonderful. His logic for this probably is that even when he actually is a girl, he's still more manly than Richard (er, this sounds a little mean. Sorry Hammond!) (I really am stalking you. *waggles fingers spookily*)
"Don't insult my fans, Hammond. They're better than yours."
Hammond goggled at him, aghast. "They?! There's one, and at the moment she's you, so I don't think she counts!"
"Exactly, she's me. So she's better-looking than all of your fans."
"You are the most narcissistic man I have ever met. 'Go screw yourself' probably sounds like an interesting suggestion to you."
"Don't you talk to me about narcissism, Hammond. I've seen you grinning at yourself in the mirror. You look like a prat. And I have good reason to be narcissistic; I'm bloody fantastic. I mean," he gestured to Harriet, "look at me."
Richard made a strange noise in between a disdainful snort and a laugh. "You're seven feet tall; you have 'I've-just-been-electrocuted' hair; you're going bald; you have enough spare tyres to put Goodyear out of business; your teeth are bright yellow..."
"Ha!" Jeremy cut him off, sounding triumphant. "Teeth are a subject you know a great deal about, aren't they? I bet all those girls who think they like you have just been blinded by your unnaturally white teeth."
"I haven't had my teeth whitened, Jeremy; I just brush them from time to time. You might want to try it too. And my other points still stand."
"I am attractive, Hammond. Do I need to remind you about the time you told me I had a strangely gorgeous arse? You know you want me, Hammond; the evidence is piling up."
Harriet blinked. "Er... what evidence?"
Jeremy smiled a slightly wolfish smile. "I want to know how exactly you fell for me, first."
Hammond interrupted. "There's no evidence. Don't tell him how you decided he wasn't the ugliest bloke on telly, after all; it'll only encourage him."
"Oh, there's evidence, Hammond. And don't try to downplay the fact that I have fangirls. I always knew the female population of Britain would eventually wake up to the fact that I am clearly the best-looking Top Gear presenter."
Hammond turned to glare at Harriet. "See what you have done? Me and May are going to have to put up with this smugness for weeks. You're not saying another word about how not-hideous he is."
(Richard has clearly given up on keeping his eyes on the road.)