rionaleonhart | Unless, Of Course, I Am Wrong.

Not long after the still-sniggering Richard had hung up, the phone started ringing again. Jeremy was slightly hesitant about answering it - after all, it could be someone calling for the girl he was supposed to be - but, after seven rings, he picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Er, hello," a rather familiar voice said with a rather unfamiliar degree of uncertainty. "Er, is that - is that Harriet?"

"No," Jeremy said; "I think that's probably you."

There was a rather nervous laugh that didn't suit his voice at all. "You are Jeremy, then? Er, Mr. Clarkson? I - sorry, I don't know what I should call you."

"I think that's probably the least of our worries, actually," Jeremy said, glancing down at his chest.

"Well, er, yes. I'm just calling to say that Richard says he can drive me home - where you are, so it'd probably be easiest if you didn't go anywhere."

"I don't really have a choice; I've noticed you don't have a driver's licence, and I'm hardly going to go on public transport," Jeremy said. "Your purse says 'Superbabe'."

"Er," the voice said, sounding mortified. "Yes."

"Are you going to pay me back for the price of this call?"

There was a pause, and then, rather frantically, "Er, I - sorry, I had to use your phone, and obviously I don't have my money right now, but - I don't know, you've got my card and I could tell you my PIN code, but I don't know - I'm sure I can trust you, but just in case something happens I don't - I don't know that I could convince the authorities that another person in my body was stealing from my bank account, and - "

"I was joking," Jeremy interrupted.

There was a pause.

"Top Gear is fantastic," the voice said, sounding slightly hysterical, "and I love you."

And then she apologised about seven times and hung up.

Jeremy lay back on the sofa and hoped desperately that nobody tried to interview Jeremy Clarkson before this was sorted out.

*is still laughing quite a lot*

Oh, poor, poor Jeremy. Oh, poor you, having to talk to Jeremy! Oh, this is perfect! I can see poor Jeremy... oh dear. And then... oh, dear, I expect I'd probably tell him I loved him too... and your icon is perfect!

(Oh, God, I hate my late commenting. I was uploading new icons... see, new icon!)

Oh, Richard will have to drive you there...and then of course...

Jeremy started when he heard a knock at the door. Fervently hoping it wasn't someone this clearly slightly strange person knew, he opened it cautiously, and there he was, looking rather worried. Richard smiled awkwardly.

"Are you...?"

"I'm Jeremy, Richard. I'm Jeremy and we are going to go somewhere as far away from this mess as possible."

Richard grinned.

Jeremy-who-wasn't-actually-Jeremy frowned and said, "Erm... would I be coming with you?"

"Yes, yes you bloody will," said Jeremy in a very worried tone, "I'm not having you ruining my reputation by fangirling yourself in front of the press."

"There's no need to be rude, Jeremy," said Richard sternly. Jeremy-who-wasn't-Jeremy, meanwhile, looked slightly embarrassed.

"Er, I wasn't..." began Jeremy-who-wasn't-Jeremy (otherwise known, Jeremy suddenly remembered, as Harriet)

"Oh, I'm very sorry," said Jeremy in a more pleasant tone, wincing at the use of the word 'sorry'. "Not that I was wrong, because you would do that, and who could blame you, really, inhabiting the body of a fine specimin of manhood like myself..."

Richard was laughing quite heartily by this point.

"In case you have forgotten, Hammond," snapped Jeremy, "I could still kill you with my bare hands. All I'd need to do would be to feed you that bloody hair gunk you're so fond of..." Jeremy stopped. Harriet had begun to laugh behind her hand, which was Jeremy's hand... Jeremy blinked. Did he really look like that when he laughed?

Harriet shook her head. "I'm, er, sorry," she said, blushing slightly, "I..."

Hammond was laughing again. "Clarkson, you're blushing!" he snorted.

(Oh, dear. I haven't even attempted to characterise you. Apparently I like writing these. Profuse apologies are in order, I think.)

Specimen. With an 'e'. *sighs hopelessly*

You have characterised me scarily well. It's terribly surreal, reading something someone else has written featuring you (although not quite as surreal as writing it yourself, which was rather horrible to do, actually, because I had to consciously think about my incredible awkwardness and then write it down).

I love Jeremy threatening to feed Richard his hair gel. But you knew that, because I have already laughed about it in the fic! And I love Richard taking such glee in seeing 'Clarkson' being so awkward (I BLUSH FAR TOO EASILY, IT IS MADDENING), and "Not that I was wrong, because you would do that, and who could blame you, really, inhabiting the body of a fine specimin of manhood like myself..." made me laugh so hard. (WHY DO I LOVE THIS SO MUCH? IT IS ABOUT MY BEING MOCKED BY PEOPLE I ADORE.)

Oh, I expect it must be alarming... hey! Now you know how Clarkson or Hammond or May might feel! Aww... oh dear. I'm very sorry. I would probably be even more awkward, frankly. I would just gaze at him, only he would be me, and er... so I'd be gazing at me, which would be odd... oh, dear.

But you knew that, because I have already laughed about it in the fic! Oh, dear, I am inadvertently plagiarising myself... (Ah, blushing easily is not as bad as crying happy tears easily...) Hooray, I made someone laugh! (Double hooray, the ellipsis have stopped!) (THEY ARE OBVIOUSLY MOCKING YOU BECAUSE THEY LIKE YOU.)

Hee, it hadn't even occurred to me that I was experiencing real-person fiction from the other side. It's certainly an interesting experience. Also hilarious!

(I WILL TRY VERY HARD TO BELIEVE THAT.)

Ah, well you must use it to your advantage!... somehow.

(IT IS TRUE! THINK; HE MOCKS HIS CO-PRESENTERS BECAUSE HE ADORES THEM, THUS; HE ALSO LOVES YOU)

Also, I apparently have continued it. As I'm sure e-mail notifications will inform you. Oh, God, why am I telling you?

Riona linked me to this thread, and it is HILARIOUS and I LOVE IT AND STRANGLING WITH SLOW'S HAIR.

Riona, I CANNNOT believe you have a purse that says Superbabe. Is it glittery?

Er, a bit. IT WAS A JOKE PRESENT FROM A FRIEND WHO KNEW I DISAPPROVED OF ALL THINGS GLITTERY AND SUPERBABE-ESQUE. AND I DIDN'T HAVE ANY OTHER PURSES, SO I ENDED UP ACTUALLY USING IT. DON'T JUDGE ME.

...

*is even more dead from sniggering*

I don't suppose I should judge people with ridiculous purses. I myself have a Pokemon t-shirt with Pikachu on it which I still wear every now and then.

Oh, yippee, ridiculous happiness! *dances of glee*

Clearly we need to see more of this saga. And where is Top Gear Dog in all this? I'm not having Top Gear fanfic without TG ;), who will make everything ten times more adorable. And that's a scientific fact, dammit

Also, poor Riona's family.

*sniggers a lot*

You are obviously right!

Oh, dear, I know.

Jeremy was about to attempt to strangle Richard when he noticed that in the back of the car there was a white furry cotton-woolish thing... "Oh, God, you didn't bring the mutt, did you?"

Richard straightened up and looked rather affronted. "She seems to prefer the new occupant of your body."

"Yes, Richard, because I'm so incredibly concerned about the opinion of your bloody dog-thing."

Richard scowled. Harriet had a rather strange expression on her face. Jeremy eyed her curiously, and was about to ask her what exactly she was thinking, when he heard a rather alarming sound from within the house.

"Quick, they're coming out! Run for it!" The whole lot of them dived inside Richard's Porsche 911, Jeremy ending up stuck in the back with, well, himself and the dog. Top Gear Dog gave him a condescending look. She was above such business, and she settled down to sleep.

Richard drove at ridiculous speeds until they were far enough away from the house not to worry about random members of the family wondering why exactly Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond and Top Gear Dog had congregated outside their house.

"Did you have to bring this?" Jeremy asked, irritated.

"Jeremy, I just saved you from having to pretend to be a convincing teenage girl, something I would never have let you live down... actually, on second thoughts..."

"Don't you dare, Hammond. I won't complain about your stupid car." Jeremy crossed his arms and sulked.

(Um, I may be wrong about some things. Because, well, I usually am.)

*howls* Oh, no, Clarkson would be horrible at being a teenage girl, wouldn't he? He'd probably say 'oh, yeah, I, er, really love the Backstreet Boys' and then the family would want to take him to a doctor.

And I bet TG likes Riona more than Clarkson!

Also, technically, 'Clarkson' and Hammond just kidnapped Riona, in a way.

And do I want to know what Harriet is thinking?

Oh, God, he'd be useless...*dies a little*

I'm sure she does, poor thing.

They did! Oh, dear, that's not good.

Ahem. No. No, I don't think you do, given your liking of James/Top Gear Dog.

He would be HILARIOUS, is the right word.

TG's got taste, is all :p.

I can image the newsbreaks *sniggers*

Oh, she WOULD think of Clarkson/TG, wouldn't she? I'm sure she'll be proven wrong in her delusions :p And James/TG is obviously more adorable.

He really would be hilarious.

Of course she has taste. She is a most discerning dog.

Oh, dear...*laughs far too much*

Quite possibly, yes. Well, I cannot make up my mind without having read any James/TG, really.

Oh, dear, ideas flood my mind...

Hammond was humming to himself, the smug bastard. Jeremy narrowed his eyes. Right, fine then. "I need a drink. Preferably a strong one."

Harriet glanced over at him. "But it's only..."

Clarkson turned to her. "Shush. I'm trying to embarrass Hammond."

Harriet looked distinctly alarmed. "How, exactly?"

Clarkson grinned. "You'll find out, won't you?"

Harriet now looked very worried. She glanced over at the sleeping TG in hope of some sanity, but sadly the dog, despairing of the sheer insanity of the car's passengers, was soundly asleep.

Richard found a rather pleasant looking pub on a high street somewhere that none of them recognised.

Clarkson climbed out of the car, grinning evilly. Harriet climbed out after him, looking very worried indeed.

And then came the embarrassment. "Oh my God, it's Richard Hammond" shrieked Jeremy, flailing.

Harriet looked horrified. "Stop it!" she hissed, panicking slightly.

"I love you, Hammond, I really do... oh, wait, is that Clarkson?!"

A look of abject horror appeared on Harriet's face, and she ran back to the car. Top Gear Dog rolled her eyes at her to show her disdain for Jeremy's stupidity, and then climbed onto her lap.

Jeremy reappeared at the window. "You ruined my plan!"

"You... you make the worst teenage girl ever!" cried Harriet, blushing furiously.

Clarkson sighed. "I happen to think I make a very convincing teenage girl."

Neither Harriet nor TG appeared convinced.

"No, look; Oh my God, Justin Timberlake is, like, soo hot, and Richard Hammond is a poncy shortarse with stupid hair... you can't tell me that's not exactly what a teenage girl sounds like."

Harriet and TG looked at one another in despair.

(Oh, God, profuse apologies to Riona...I really shouldn't attempt to write you.)

I AM SUFFERING SO MUCH AND I LOVE IT. "Oh my God, it's Richard Hammond" shrieked Jeremy, flailing. UTTER GLORIOUS HILARITY. JEREMY, YOU BASTARD. That is so one of the first things he'd do if he were changed into a teenage girl.

I'm so glad I've at least found a friend in Top Gear Dog. And hee, thinking about Jeremy/Top Gear Dog! And my family would probably be slightly concerned if they saw me being bundled into a car and driven off by Top Gear presenters. And 'the worst teenage girl ever' is exactly what I'd say.

I am so very, very insanely pleased that you like it! Oh, dear, I can see Jeremy doing that also, and presuming flailing far too much and looking like an idiot. Or, in this case, making you look like an idiot.

Oh, indeed, I'm sure Top Gear Dog would be very fond of you. Again, I am so very pleased that you like the weird, weird thing!

Um, apparently I am in a fic-writing mood, and apparently this is what my brain has decided to do with it.

Richard stalked back to the car, scowling. A man sat outside the pub was hooting with laughter at the spectacle, and he shot him a death glare before returning to Clarkson.

"Jeremy, what the bloody hell was that? I thought you wanted a drink, but you're clearly already bladdered if you're going to act like that in public."

"It was a brilliant plan, Richard, but unfortunately it was ruined." He turned to Harriet. "You could at least try to look guilty."

Harriet and TG glared at him.

Richard scowled. "You do realise this means you won't be getting a drink break in the future, no matter how thirsty you may be?" Harriet looked slightly worried.

"Er, does that mean we'll be driving for a while? Where exactly are we going?" Richard made a huffing noise.

"Somewhere where this berk can't embarrass me." And then Richard climbed back into the car, slamming the door behind him, and Jeremy sat in the front seat, away from a very annoyed-looking Harriet and TG.

Jeremy smirked at him. "I can always embarrass you, Hammnond. I'll lean out of the car window and yell, 'I'm Hammond's new girlfriend, but really he likes Jeremy!'."

Richard turned to give him a look of extreme anger. "For the last time, Jeremy, I'm not gay. And if I was, I wouldn't be interested in you. No-one in their right mind would be."

Jeremy smirked again, and the smirk was even more smug this time. "She does," he said, and indicated Harriet with his thumb.

"She's been through a very traumatic experience, Clarkson. I'm sure she had no interest in you whatsoever before."

Harriet coloured slightly, and Richard, noticing this in the driver's mirror, turned round to give her an exasperated stare. "Couldn't you help me out a little?" He sniggered. "I suppose at least I know what Clarkson looks like when he's...blushing..." Richard collapsed in giggles over the steering wheel. Jeremy scowled. He couldn't drive in this state.

(I just had a rather alarming bout of déjà vu. It was strange.)

Ahahaha, Jeremy is so smug about having a fangirl! And he demands that I look guilty for ruining his plan! Poor Richard. Poor, er, me.

Oh dear, I do feel terribly sorry for fic-you. It's very strange writing things involving someone who will actually read it, very odd indeed, although it must be even odder for you to read things about yourself. Oh, dear, Jeremy would be smug, I think. Oh dear, I seem to have written more... (Erm, and I seem to be replying late again. I hate having Things To Do.)

“I’m driving from now on,” Jeremy announced loudly.

“Erm, I’m afraid you can’t,” said Harriet from the back seat. “I don’t have a driving license.”

Clarkson stared at her, flabbergasted. “How do you survive?” he asked incredulously. A look of horror crossed his face. "Don't tell me you have a motorbike; I'm not being stuck in a car with two people stupid enough to think that those abominations deserve the honour of wheels."

Richard glared at him. "You know, Clarkson, if you keep complaining I'm just going to leave you at the side of the road."

"No!" cried Harriet. Jeremy and Richard turned around to look at her (Richard clearly forgetting to keep his eyes on the road). "That's, er, my body. What if we swap back?"

"Yes, Richard," said Jeremy in an admonishing tone. "You can't just kidnap a girl and then decide not to go through with it. I'm quite ashamed of you, to be honest." Richard narrowed his eyes and chose to ignore Clarkson.

"Might I ask," said Jeremy, grinning like the Cheshire cat, "when exactly you came to be so fond of me? Please feel free to gush as much as you like."

Richard gave an irritated sigh. "The trauma of becoming the most ridiculous middle-aged man in the whole of England has gone to her head, Jeremy. She didn't like you before. I'm sure she preferred me."

Jeremy snorted. "Nobody prefers you really, Hammond. They just feel sorry for you because you look like a girl and you're too short to drive most of the cars we have because your short little legs can't reach the gear pedals."

"Jeremy, I'm not sure it's wise for you to make any comments about looking like a girl, considering your current appearance. And if I have to tell you again then I'll be taking you down to the nearest Clinique counter and asking them for a free makeover."

"They'll think you mean for you."

Harriet frowned. "Um, you do realise that that is still my body? I don't particularly want it ruined just to annoy Jeremy."

Jeremy turned round and attempted to shoot her a Clarkson grin, which didn't work well, considering he was currently inhabiting her body. "You still haven't told us the story of how you came to be my biggest fan. I'm sure it's fascinating."

"Of course you think that, it's about you. However, I happen to find any story featuring someone falling for someone as idiotic and stupid-looking as you very unrealistic."

"I'm not stupid-looking, Hammond. I'm sure there are millions of people just like her who find me stunningly gorgeous."

"I'm sure those millions of people only exist inside your warped mind, Clarkson." He turned to Harriet. "Don't worry, we can get you to a psychiatrist soon so you can talk about the fact that you have feelings for Jeremy. You might be sectioned, but I think that's possibly for the best."

Harriet looked rather affronted. TG gave her a comforting look, and seemed to be patting her hand with one of her paws.

(Oh, dear. I'm very sorry.)

Hee! Oh, Jeremy. I love that he wants to hear a bit of fangirling, and Richard is just desperately trying to deny that anyone could possibly be interested in him. And he says Richard looks like a girl when he himself is actually in a girl's body! Lunatic.(ALSO, HOW DO YOU KNOW THE WAY I SPEAK? IT IS UNCANNY.)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject