Oh, dear, I'm very sorry (I also feel very sorry for fic-you). I'm, er, pleased it's realistic enough for you to be embarrassed/annoyed, though. Also, yes, he is a dreadful policeman. Dreadful.
"So, then, what exactly do you love so much about me? Is it the rugged physique, or my Brad-Pitt-esque face, or..."
"Call May," snapped Hammond. "Call May now before I kill you."
"It is my body..." began Harriet.
"Yes, and that is precisely why I haven't already thrown him from the car. However, if I hear one more word about how attractive he thinks he is I'm afraid you will no longer have a body. At least not a living one."
Jeremy pouted, which was a good deal less scary now that he wasn't in his own body, and dialled May's number. Both Harriet and Richard looked rather relieved. TG nuzzled Harriet's arm, and Harriet patted her head, muttering something vaguely angry about irritating body-stealing Jeremy Clarksons who had done nothing but embarrass her ever since this mess had begun. Richard, hearing this, grinned widely and thought triumphantly that order in the world had been restored and Clarkson no longer had fangirls.
"May!" boomed Clarkson, although he was not booming nearly enough, much to his disappointment.
"Oh good, it's you," said May, rather sarcastically. "According to the news, you've been found by a policeman who Harriet - or, should I say, you - apparently said some very odd things to. Her family are very concerned. The news people are saying she's got Stockholm Syndrome. I don't think you should try to act like a teenage girl, Clarkson; you're even worse at it than you are at trying to be a sensible human being."
"I don't know why none of you believe that I'm a convincing teenage girl; I convinced that policeman well enough!"
"According to the news, he was clinically insane and had only been employed as part of a rehabilitation project."
"Ah. I'd still make a better teenage girl than you, May."
"Well, that's a great concern of mine. I'm very saddened. I think you should come back here, Jeremy. People are very annoyed with you."
"And how is Harriet supposed to explain how sorry she is for abducting herself when she's distracted by my stunning body?"
"You mean when she's distracted by her bad back and aching limbs?"
"She loves me, May. Just because you don't have any fangirls."
"I don't think she loves you after your little performance, Jeremy. In fact, I think she's probably very annoyed and plotting her revenge."
"Oh, just because Graham Norton turned you down doesn't mean you have to be cranky with me. She still adores me; how could she not?"
"I don't fancy Graham Norton, Jeremy. And I think you should apologise to your supposed fan."
"Oh, bloody hell, fine." Jeremy covere the reciever with his hand and turned around to look at Harriet, who was talking to TG. TG was listening intently. Probably helping her plot, bloody sneaky dog. TG glared at him as though she had heard that. "I'm very... very apologetic if I embarrassed you slightly; but I was still a very convincing teenage girl. I even convinced myself for a moment."
"That wasn't a very convincing apology," said Harriet. "And no-one acts like that."
"Clearly you don't know any teenage girls."
"And you do?!" exclaimed Hammond.
"I'm good at being a teenage girl, Richard; I'm the best at anything I turn my hand to."
Clarkson lifted his hand from the receiver. "James? You still there?"
"You aren't very good at saying sorry."
"You aren't very good at having normal hair."
"I'm going now, Jeremy. Please try not to embarrass anybody in the next few hours."
"I don't..." May had hung up.
(Why exactly I decided to bring May back in is beyond me; perhaps it was to prevent further embarrassment for poor, long-suffering fic-you.)
no subject
"So, then, what exactly do you love so much about me? Is it the rugged physique, or my Brad-Pitt-esque face, or..."
"Call May," snapped Hammond. "Call May now before I kill you."
"It is my body..." began Harriet.
"Yes, and that is precisely why I haven't already thrown him from the car. However, if I hear one more word about how attractive he thinks he is I'm afraid you will no longer have a body. At least not a living one."
Jeremy pouted, which was a good deal less scary now that he wasn't in his own body, and dialled May's number. Both Harriet and Richard looked rather relieved. TG nuzzled Harriet's arm, and Harriet patted her head, muttering something vaguely angry about irritating body-stealing Jeremy Clarksons who had done nothing but embarrass her ever since this mess had begun. Richard, hearing this, grinned widely and thought triumphantly that order in the world had been restored and Clarkson no longer had fangirls.
"May!" boomed Clarkson, although he was not booming nearly enough, much to his disappointment.
"Oh good, it's you," said May, rather sarcastically. "According to the news, you've been found by a policeman who Harriet - or, should I say, you - apparently said some very odd things to. Her family are very concerned. The news people are saying she's got Stockholm Syndrome. I don't think you should try to act like a teenage girl, Clarkson; you're even worse at it than you are at trying to be a sensible human being."
"I don't know why none of you believe that I'm a convincing teenage girl; I convinced that policeman well enough!"
"According to the news, he was clinically insane and had only been employed as part of a rehabilitation project."
"Ah. I'd still make a better teenage girl than you, May."
"Well, that's a great concern of mine. I'm very saddened. I think you should come back here, Jeremy. People are very annoyed with you."
"And how is Harriet supposed to explain how sorry she is for abducting herself when she's distracted by my stunning body?"
"You mean when she's distracted by her bad back and aching limbs?"
"She loves me, May. Just because you don't have any fangirls."
"I don't think she loves you after your little performance, Jeremy. In fact, I think she's probably very annoyed and plotting her revenge."
"Oh, just because Graham Norton turned you down doesn't mean you have to be cranky with me. She still adores me; how could she not?"
"I don't fancy Graham Norton, Jeremy. And I think you should apologise to your supposed fan."
"Oh, bloody hell, fine." Jeremy covere the reciever with his hand and turned around to look at Harriet, who was talking to TG. TG was listening intently. Probably helping her plot, bloody sneaky dog. TG glared at him as though she had heard that. "I'm very... very apologetic if I embarrassed you slightly; but I was still a very convincing teenage girl. I even convinced myself for a moment."
"That wasn't a very convincing apology," said Harriet. "And no-one acts like that."
"Clearly you don't know any teenage girls."
"And you do?!" exclaimed Hammond.
"I'm good at being a teenage girl, Richard; I'm the best at anything I turn my hand to."
Clarkson lifted his hand from the receiver. "James? You still there?"
"You aren't very good at saying sorry."
"You aren't very good at having normal hair."
"I'm going now, Jeremy. Please try not to embarrass anybody in the next few hours."
"I don't..." May had hung up.
(Why exactly I decided to bring May back in is beyond me; perhaps it was to prevent further embarrassment for poor, long-suffering fic-you.)