Then it was James's turn,
and because his Lambo was very long and very hard to see out of,
we waited for him to go and fetch it and then helped him out a little bit.
You evil man! That's brilliant! That's genius.
About that much?
-Ready, James? Three, two, one, go! -All right, mate?
He's moving. That's not a very good angle.
Sorry.
That's kind of set the tone, really.
Touch! Kerb!
-Touch! -It doesn't fit!
Another touch. Two minutes 14 and he's having another crack at it.
Another touch.
He's kerbed the wheel! Another touch!
-Kerbed! -Touch!
-Oh, God! -Kerbed.
Oh, that was...
-Did I do that? I'm really sorry. -Well, James, three minutes..
20 seconds and carnage brought to the town of Marlborough.
So far, we'd only covered 50 miles and things were going badly.
James had broken down more times than Sienna Miller
and the tappety noise in my Maserati was getting louder.
How can it be so difficult to drive from Bristol to Slough?
Jeremy keeps banging on about the tappet,
but that is something much, much more serious.
That's the whole bowels of the engine disintegrating.
The one dial that was working this morning,
oil pressure, now says nought.
What genuinely scares me at the moment is, if the engine stops, I lose all braking.
I don't mean if it gets worse. I mean, it goes completely.
So, would I make it to the finishing point at the lap-dancing bar?
60 miles to go.
I'm going for a gear change.
It's worked!
But then...
I mean, I've lost brakes.
I've lost brakes.
Just a small technical point, your engine didn't cut out.
-It disintegrated. -James, could you not, on my grief...
It was like flying into a cloud in a small aeroplane.
With bits of engine.
Bits of engine striking the front of my car.
-I think, gentlemen... -You're out.
-I'm out. -Yeah.
James, do you know what? Let's go, mate. Mine's still working.
-I'll follow you, yeah? -Yeah, I'm running out of fuel.
I can't carry extra weight. Sorry.
Jeremy has fallen spectacularly.
There's no way can James's Lambo make it.
It's mine! It's in the bag!
All I had to do was drive economically, because we weren't allowed to refuel.
Don't overtake, you fool!
That's brilliant. That's put my red light on.
Nevertheless, 20 miles later, we were still going.
I'm in the centre of Reading, in a bright yellow Ferrari,
with no fuel in it, that could conk out any minute.
Right.
Please don't go here. Please don't go here...
Traffic's building up.
Bad for Hammond's fuel consumption, bad for my electrical supply.
Amazingly, I made it through Reading,
but then it really was time to clutch at straws.
I've discovered something. When I turn right,
the needle moves up off the stop, so, if I keep turning right...
I've got more petrol.
Come on, Hammond, do the decent thing and run out of petrol.
Come on, little Ferrari.
Be frugal. Just sip.
Hammond's miracle-powered car was beginning to worry me
but then, just ten miles from our destination...
What was that? What was that?
That's Hammond out!
Would you like me to keep a dancing girl warm for you?
-No, I'd like you to give me a lift! -You know the rules, mate. Sorry.
Can't believe it.
And so, with Top Gear presenters littering most of southern England,
the Lamborghini soldiered on.
The car that had started the day on the back of a tow-truck,
the car that had taken so much stick from Clarkson and Hammond,
was the only one left running.
All I need is enough electricity and enough petrol
so get to this Peppermint Rhinoceros place.
Yes, I was just seven miles from gentlemen's club heaven.
It's smoking like hell.
Just keep going, car. I'll let you come in with me.
But then, just outside Slough...
-BBC Radio Berkshire... travel. -BBC Radio Berkshire.
And time for the latest on the roads now. Some news just coming in
of some huge tailbacks on the A4 just to the east of...
And guess what was causing it.
Yep, I was out as well.
So...
So, in the end...
In the end, then, your car broke down as well.
Yes, it did and that means, essentially, in case you missed it,
none of our £10,000 supercars could get us to a lap-dancing bar in Slough.
No, I was hoping to end the evening in a rather different sort of hedge
but there we are.
I have to say, great respect.
Your engine explosion was absolutely spectacular.
You're not joking. I collected the pieces off the road.
Look at this, okay? These are bits of the crank case
which blew a hole in the side of the engine.
And look. That, my big end ended up in a bucket.
-Oh, that's not what you want. -It just showered your car, didn't it?
I could hear it, bang, bang, bang. You're looking smug
but I don't think you ran out of petrol, did you?
No, what actually happened was a complete and catastrophic failure
of all the engine electrics. All of them gone.
-Yup. So, therefore this is... -This is useless.
-As useless as our cars, in fact. -Absolutely. But no matter.
We did end up with a Top Gear Top Tip, okay?
Yes, you can buy a supercar for less than £10,000,
but, for the love of God... don't.