rionaleonhart | Unless, Of Course, I Am Wrong.

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!

Oh, hurrah, you liked it! I am immensely relieved. Immensely.

It was at this point that they heard the police sirens.

They exchanged panicked glances, and Richard pulled over to the side of the road. "Somehow, Clarkson, somehow this is all your fault."

The police officer tapped the window and Richard wound it down.

In a rather gruff and sour-sounding voice, the police officer said, "Sir, you were driving very fast down this road and I couldn't help but notice you swerved quite a few times."

Attempting to hide his face, Richard squeaked, "Oh, I'll never ever do it again. Can I go now?"

The police officer narrowed his eyes. "'Ere, aren't you that Richard Hammond... and there's that kidnapped girl! Alright, I'm going to have to take you in." He began fiddling with the radio attatched to his jacket.

"No, wait!" cried Jeremy. Hammond shot him a look. The last thing they needed was for Jeremy to tell him the truth. They'd end up thinking Richard and Jeremy had given her strange drugs as well.

"Er, I'm Jeremy Clarkson's biggest fan, and I think he's soo hot, and I want to marry him and have his babies and he's just a god, isn't he? Yeah, yeah he is, and I, like, tried, like to get in the car with him and I made them drive me here so I could spend time with Jeremy. And I think Richard Hammond is rubbish, by the way."

Both Richard and Harriet had their heads in their hands. Jeremy smiled brightly at the police officer. The police officer frowned suspiciously. "Do you concur, Mr. Hammond?"

"That I'm rubbish or that he - she - forced her way into the car?"

"No need to play silly buggers, Mr. Hammond."

"I agree, yes."

"And you, Mr. Clarkson?" The police officer smirked.

Harriet nodded, red-faced.

And then they were let go. Jeremy grinned triumphantly. "See, I make a very convincing teenage girl! He let us go."

Richard frowned and shook his head. "That was too easy. Far too easy."

Jeremy shrugged. "It's because he doesn't know that much. We're in the middle of nowhere here, Hammond, try to enjoy it; we'll deal with the fallout when we go back home." Jeremy turned around and grinned at Harriet. "And you still haven't told me why you fancy me so much."

Harriet and TG exchanged glances. "Er, you embarrassed me quite a lot a minute ago."

"And yet you still think I'm the most wonderful man alive. I'm pleased to inspire such devotion."

Richard gritted his teeth. This was going to be bloody awful.

(Clearly I know so very much about police procedure. However, this is Jeremy-as-Riona bodyswap fic, and thus is not the most realistic thing in the world.)

Oh, God, I am becoming horribly embarrassed just reading this. I am feeling so utterly sorry for my fic-self! I may actually be starting to become rather annoyed with Jeremy and then having to consciously remind myself that, er, he never actually did any of this. (If the policeman reported that I said that, though, my family would definitely suspect that something was up. Also: worst policeman ever. "Oh, this girl forced her way into your car? All right; carry on.")

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.)

"Call May," snapped Hammond. "Call May now before I kill you."

Oh, I can so hear him saying this. Hee!

I am terribly grateful to Top Gear Dog for being so wonderfully reassuring in the midst of all this insanity. Thank you, Top Gear Dog.

Ahahaha, the policeman is insane! That explains a lot. Also, it is hilarious.

"Well, that's a great concern of mine. I'm very saddened."

Your May is the best thing ever.

Hee, talking to Top Gear Dog!

"You aren't very good at saying sorry."
"You aren't very good at having normal hair."

AHAHAHA, GLORIOUSLY NONSENSICAL COMEBACK.

(Fic-me appreciates it. As does non-fic-me, actually, because your May is so brilliantly Mayish.)

Yippee, you liked it! (Seriously, my cheeks hurt from grinning at your wonderful comment.) And yes, Top Gear Dog is a bastion of sesne and kind-heartedness in the midst of the weirdness. And, oh my God, you like my May! This makes me insanely gleeful. I love writing Jeremy. You get to make no sense whatsoever and yet it makes perfect sense.

"I don't embarrass people!" Jeremy turned to Harriet. "I've never embarrassed you, have I?"

Harriet's eyebrows shot up. "I... twice! In one day!"

"I'm still your favourite person," said Jeremy, grinning.

"Oh, not this again," groaned Hammond.

Jeremy smirked. "Jealous, are we, Hammond? You had your moment in the spotlight - admittedly, the spotlight was mostly the gleam from your teeth - and now I'm the favourite. I'm glad to see people are coming to their senses."

Hammond muttered, "It's not Jeremy's body, it's not Jeremy's body," repeatedly under his breath.

Jeremy's grin suddenly grew even wider, which hadn't actually seemed possible a few seconds ago. "Or are you jealous because I'm not paying enough attention to you? The evidence is just piling up, it really is."

Harriet perked up slightly at this. TG shook her head as though to show her disapproval. "Er, I really am curious about this evidence you keep mentioning... what is it, exactly?"

"I've told you, we'll do a deal. My evidence for your story of how exactly you fell in hopeless lust with me." Clarkson turned around expectantly.

Richard, keeping his eyes on the road this time, snapped, "I swear, if you help him, you'll be equally culpable, and I'll happily throw your body out of the car."

Harriet looked slightly alarmed.

"Oh, ignore him. He's always threatening things. I wouldn't worry. He's short."

Richard braked sharply. "Jeremy, I swear to God, if the next thing you say is anyhing to do with fangirls you don't have, nonexistent 'evidence' or an insult to me, you will be thrown out of the car. My height is irrelevant."

"I haven't told him the story!" said Harriet, sounding very worried. "You can't throw him out if he's still me!"

Richard sighed. "Wouldn't you prefer it if he wasn't here? He humiliated you too."

Harriet looked rather uncomfortable. "Well..."

Jeremy gave her a rather horrified look. "Some fangirl you are! Honestly, you betray me just because of some mild embarrassment. At least I still have Hammond."

Richard made a seething noise. "Surely you'd rather put up with a few bumps and bruises than listen to that. Not even girls with crushes on Jeremy Clarkson can be that mad."

"Um, I think I'd prefer to keep my body intact," said Harriet. Jeremy pumped his fist in the air.

Hammond sighed wearily. "Anything remotely resembling praise of Clarkson will result in him being thrown out of the car and you being left by the side of the road. I do mean that."

admittedly, the spotlight was mostly the gleam from your teeth

Ahahaha, that is perfect.

Oh, Jeremy, why are you so obsessed with the concept of Hammond fancying you, hmm?

how exactly you fell in hopeless lust with me

I love how, every time Jeremy refers to my fannishness of him, it's a bit more inflated.

"Some fangirl you are! Honestly, you betray me just because of some mild embarrassment. At least I still have Hammond."

That is absolutely fantastic. Hee! I love that he acts surprised, even though he's been utterly maddening the whole time.

(Hopelessly late commenting due to yet more Things To Do.) Hooray, you liked it! *glee* He is obsessed because he fancies Hammond. Obviously. He probably thought he was being endearingly wacky. Because he is a loon.

Hammond started up the car again, muttering bitterly to himself.

"You know, Jeremy," snapped Richard, eyes focussed entirely on the road, "Harriet could very well decide to embarrass you."

"But she wouldn't," said Jeremy cheerfully, "because she worships the ground I drive on."

Hammond shot him a very dirty look. "I mean it, Jez. Keep it in mind. We could always call good old Piers and the story would be out in seconds."

"You couldn't think of a bad thing to say about me."

"Oh," said Richard, sounding highly amused, "I'm sure there's something."

"You know," said Jeremy suddenly, deciding to change the subject before Harriet could act upon Richard's unpleasant advice, "we should perhaps find out where we are. We might need petrol or food, and May could bring it to us."

"You really want to drag poor May into this? I don't think he deserves to have to put up with you and your ridiculousness."

"Oh, Hammond, I know you want to keep me all to yourself, but we'll be needing the essentials. I'm sure May'll keep out of the way when necessary." Jeremy grinned and elbowed Richard in the ribs. Jeremuy grinned again. "Or maybe he won't." Harriet and TG exchanged glances and returned to listening avidly to the conversation.

"Jeremy," said Richard, attempting to be calm, "I don't fancy you, you egotistical git. I fancy May more than you; I fancy Top Gear Dog more than you. So could this nonsense please just stop, once and for all."

"Is this because I'm a girl?" asked Jeremy. "Because I thought you were more open than that. I'm ashamed of you, Hammond."

Richard banged his head against the steering wheel. "Are you serious? You cannot possibly be serious about this, Jeremy."

"I'll have you know, if I was my usual self, I'd quite happily kiss you; I just don't particularly want to inflict that on our new friend."

Richard lifted his head from the steering wheel and returned his eyes to the road, remembering that they might not be lucky enough to get the World's Most Useless Policeman next time. "Jeremy, this is possibly the worst time you could have picked to discuss this. You're in a different body; the occupant of your body is sitting right behind us; my poor, impressionable dog is sitting right behind us... I think it would be best if you found out where we were and called May."

Jeremy shrugged. "Fine. May's better looking than you, anyway."

Hammond turned to glare at him. "You are not calling May for that. I'll call him if that's what you're going to do."

Jeremy sighed petulantly. "Alright, I'll be bloody boring like you and ask him about food. Honestly, Richard, you could at least try to be an interesting person."

Hammond decided he was better off ignoring him until they found out where they were and James arrived.

(Ahem. I'm not sure how that happened. Er, anyway...)

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