rionaleonhart | Unless, Of Course, I Am Wrong.

*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.)

(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.)

"Exactly, she's me. So she's better-looking than all of your fans."

Oh, Jeremy. He's so wonderfully arrogant.

'Go screw yourself' probably sounds like an interesting suggestion to you.

Ha! Oh, I bet it does.

Oh, dear, the slasher side of me can't suppress her interest, can she? And I'm sorry for dooming you to eternal Clarkson-smugness, Hammond.

(Are you going to kill us all in a horrible car crash? Because that would be cruel.)

His arrogance is wonderful to write, considering that I'm the exact opposite.

Oh, Jeremy. *grins*

No, I don't think she can. And poor Richard!

(No! Goodness me, no.)

It was at that point that Richard’s mobile phone rang, with the rather embarrassing Basement Jaxx ringtone. Jeremy opened his mouth to mock him mercilessly, when Hammond snapped, “Answer it, won’t you? It might be James.”

Clarkson made a mental note to mock him later, and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Who is this?” said a rather harassed-sounding James May. Oh, crap. Clarkson’s voice was, of course, rather different from it’s usual self. He attempted to lower it a few octaves, which caused muffled laughter from Hammond.

"It's Jeremy," said Jeremy, still nowhere near loud enough.

"Jeremy, right. I was wondering why Trevor McDonald has just informed the nation that the mother of an eighteen-year-old girl has reported that she has been kidnapped by you and Hammond."

"What?!"

"Well, you should know, Jeremy. You're the kidnapper."

"James, I think you need to sit down."

"I'm already sitting down, Jeremy."

"Did you notice that I was behaving slightly strangely this morning?"

"You're always strange, Jeremy. Hammond said something about the two of you having to see the producers and drove off. If I'd known that this was what you were planning, I'd never..."

"No, no May... there seems to have been some sort of... body mix-up. I appear to be an eighteen-year-old girl called Harriet - who by the way happens to be a huge fan of mine - and she appears to be me."

"Oh, I see, that explains it then. Why wasn't I told?"

Jeremy covered the reciever. "Hammond, why didn't you tell May?"

Hammond frowned. "He would've thought I was pulling his leg."

"Well, he seems to believe me. You're aware that her parents called the police?"

Harriet looked rather worried. "How are they?"

Clarkson shrugged. "I'm sure they'll be fine once we explain." He paused. "Well, once we come up with a good excuse, anyway." He returned to the phone. "May, where are you?"

"I'm at my house, Jeremy. I managed to drag myself away from that tip you call a home, somehow. Where are you?"

Jeremy looked around. "I'm not really sure... I'm sure we'll figure it out. We've got a better sense of direction than you, anyway."

May released a heavy sigh. "And what am I supposed to say to the reporters who keep calling me to ask if you've finally cracked? You don't know where you are, you're trapped in the body of a teenage girl, and you're sure it'll all be fine because you think you have a better sense of direction than me?"

"You could always say she's my biggest fan and she forced her way into the car. She's really very fond of me. You don't have many fangirls, do you, May?"

"I don't think now is the time for petty fights, Jeremy; and somehow I don't think that excuse will convince anyone."

"Why? I'm sure there are millions of girls just like her who'd quite happily force their way into my car to spend time with me."

"I'm hanging up now, Jeremy, and I'll be telling the press that you're on your way home."

"But we can't, I mean she's still me..." May had hung up the phone. Jeremy glared at it. "You have stupid hair, May," he muttered.

(Oh, dear...)

I am in fits of giggles. Jeremy trying to speak in his voice!

"Well, you should know, Jeremy. You're the kidnapper."

That is perfect.

Jeremy feels the need to mention that I'm a fan of his! Hee! And I love how May doesn't seem remotely surprised by all this. And Jeremy insulting May when he's hung up!

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