But then it was Jeremy's turn.
Good luck.
Here we go!
So far not one hit!
That's the ticket.
Still, things could only get better.
Whoa! I've scored.
I only had the figure of eight to redeem myself.
Come on, handbrake.
Fire!
An awful lot of bullets hitting me here.
And no wonder.
-James! What are you doing? -Shooting at Jeremy.
-He's on our side! -Yeah, but why wouldn't you?
You're right! You would! Fire!
Come on, through Dick!
Yes.
Even that went wrong.
So, I was trailing on points.
But I could win some back in the final part of the challenge,
a head to head one lap race round the Zolder circuit.
The winner would be the first one to get their towel on the sunbed.
A date with destiny.
She's ahead by what she'd call a metre.
She's breaking early there. I'm not going to do that.
I dive down the inside.
I'm in the lead!
I'm not in the lead!
The TV idiot was trying everything to get past.
Come on! Jeremy!
This really was a proper race.
I'm not talking, this matters.
Jeremy, let him get something right.
No! No! No!
They've got to get up to the bridge.
There's no possibility, in this environment, of beating a German.
-That was feeble. Sorry. -And then you didn't...
-Were you shooting at me in that tank? -He was, yes, he did that.
After that debacle, we were trailing by nine points.
But I was handling the next challenge.
And it was to be a shoot-out in my kind of car,
the incredible Bowler Nemesis.
4.4 litre V8, 300 brake horsepower, nought to 60 in six seconds.
Top speed 130 miles an hour.
But, as always, with a Bowler, it can do that anywhere on anything.
And better still, my opponent would be the accountant.
Driven a Bowler before?
-No. -Good. Good. Well, they're terrifying.
-Does he not do any racing? -No, never, he hasn't got a car.
No. He has a licence, that's it.
One driver dislodged his lung when he went too fast.
But you'll be fine. You'll enjoy this. Good luck.
It would be a five lap race over a track that was 60% Tarmac
and, thanks to James, 60% gravel.
We are off. Come on, mighty Bowler.
On Tarmac, the accountant kept up, but once we hit the dirt,
he wouldn't see me for dust.
Yes! More like it!
Meanwhile, back at base...
Sit down.
-You're not interested in these, are you? -Do you know what?
Your mind cannot comprehend of how uninterested I am in things like this.
Back on track, Hammond couldn't shake the man in the suit off his tail.
He was clearly a worthy adversary.
Keep your foot in Hammond, be brave.
A point Hammond proved moments later.
If you don't get that going, Hammond, for us, the competition is over!
That didn't go well, then.
This was a race we had to win, but the VAT man had a big lead.
I'm going to get grief for this now. This is not good.
Cooler! Eight weeks!
Where's the track gone?
-Is he gaining? -He is gaining.
On the last corner, I decided to take him on the outside.
I can have him here!
Yes!
Yeah!
-Well done, then. -Thank you!
You know what a bad loser is?
Well, Hammond is what's called a bad winner.
Yes!
What do you think of that?
Congratulate me, then, I've won. Did you notice I was first?
After Hammond's modest win, we were trailing by just four points,
as we went into the last event.
It's a two-lap race of the Zolder circuit.
It's between a Porsche 911, a racing Porsche 911,
which will be driven by professional racing driver, Tim Schrick.
And he will be against an Aston Martin DBRS9,
which will be driven by James May.
Do we have to use James?
Well, no, you did the Bowler thing. I did the Mini thing. It's his turn.
But he's going to lose, badly.
Happily, though, I'd come up with a plan.
-Do you know what I mean? -Clever. Very clever.
-It's James. -Yeah, it's James.
-He's come in for the race. -He lost 30 kilos in five minutes.
He always dresses like this when he drives a racing car.
-James, best of luck, mate. -And his hair? Who cut his hair?
-It was me. -He wears a hairnet.
Don't disturb him when he's focused and in the zone,
ready for a race. He's ice cool.
-Well, this could work. -Could do.
There's every chance.
It would be a rolling start,
because we were four points behind, James, who's now warming his tyres up,
had to set off four seconds after the Porsche.
The race was on.
Go, James! Go!
The simple fact of the matter is this.
Our young man had to shoot down their young man
at the rate of two seconds a lap.
If he does full throttle on the straight, I'm sure it's not Captain Slow.
-I know... -That's his nickname.
It's like, you know, we call him Lofty. It's the opposite.
Towards the end of the first lap, James had closed the gap to just one second.
James was driving brilliantly, but then disaster.
He locked up, he lost ground and then he had the work to do all over again.
Happily, James is no quitter.
And with half a lap to go, he was right back under the Porsche's wing.
With just two corners to go, he made his move.
-I don't want to see! -I can hear them, I can hear them both!
Which car would appear first?
Which one?
Stig! James!