Hello and welcome to Top Gear,
where tonight we are celebrating the very best of British.
It's about time. Thanks very much.
Not you, son. We're talking about British cars.
See, as you may have noticed, the world's
still a little bit shut down.
We can't get abroad for a big road trip, but that's fine because we've
got everything we need right here on our doorstep, including the cars.
Yes, if there's one thing Britain does better than anyone else
it's grand tourers. GTs - fast, comfy luxurious.
So we each decided to pick our own favourite new British GT
and take them on a little driving tour right here at home.
Who needs the south of France or the Italian Alps
when you've got beautiful,
balmy Wales?
A country that has all the ingredients
you need for a classic Grand Tour, starting with the idyllic
Mediterranean-inspired coastal village of Portmeirion.
A sophisticated classical backdrop for the most sophisticated
and classical of GTs.
The Bentley Flying Spur -
17 feet and £170,000 of quintessentially British GT car.
You see, a grand tourer needs to cover great distance at great speed
and in great comfort, and for that task there's just no better car.
This thing is supremely fast, supremely luxurious.
It's supremely Bentley.
There is simply no better way to grandly tour.
As Mr Flintoff was about to demonstrate.
I can't see a GT car. I can see a McLaren.
Andrew, you know what I'm going to say. That is the McLaren GT.
Literally, its name, I can't get any more GT than a McLaren GT.
Yeah, you can't just apply a name
to something and assume it takes that role.
If you call Paddy McGuinness a doctor of physics,
he's still a budget entertainer from Bolton, OK?
That's a sports car.
It's not very big, not very comfortable. It's comfortable.
It's the most comfortable McLaren they've ever made.
It's got a massive boot in the back.
Look at that.
What? All this. Two sets of golf clubs in there.
It's a fillet of a boot. That's massive.
Surely GT is about comfort, about distance,
time spent behind the wheel. I give you comfort.
Yes, but if I was going to go on a tour driving,
I would want to drive that car.
I'd want to sit in the back of that one. Really? That's a limo.
Here we go.
Hang on a minute.
What is it with you two not understanding basic instructions?
Ah!
Gentlemen, what better way to see this beautiful part
of the world than in the ultimate grand tourer - the Aston Martin DBX?
I don't understand why you've turned up in that.
Other than the fact that you are a little bit taters and from Cheshire.
Other than that, why else?
That is spot on. He's spot on.
I'm fascinated by Aston Martin's new car,
but this is not the right vehicle for this test.
You see, it's a bit like
when you went in the shop and bought that top.
Is it a shirt? Is it a jumper?
Is it a coat? Is it a dishcloth?
We don't know. The main thing is you're enjoying it.
In the 21st century, people are grand touring in these.
They should rename this car the Aston Martin DBX GT.
And listen - that's a limo,
that's a sports car.
I reckon, Pads, you know, in the spirit of compromise,
why don't we agree that GTs can come in all shapes and sizes?
Like Top Gear presenters.
Tubby, short, tall.
See? Something for everyone.
Tubby?
Now, lads, most importantly, we've got
a chance to explore the roads of North Wales.
It's a playground for cars, it really is. Get in, let's go.
Now, the beauty of grand touring in Wales, apart from the weather,
is that once you leave your idyllic coastal village behind, the next
bit of scenery is only just around the corner.
Look at these views.
This is stunning.
When you see roads like this, why not just stay in Britain?
North Wales, I reckon, boys,
has some of the best driving roads in Europe.
They really are. For demonstrating what a road car can do,
I don't think there's a better place around than this.
Which is just as well, because the DBX can do a lot.
Aston Martin have dipped their toe in the world of SUVs
and I've got to tell you - I think they've got it absolutely spot on.
160 grand buys you a four-litre twin turbo V8 packing 542 horsepower,
which is enough to get James Bond and his kids all the way up to 181.
Aside from that, I love the inside of it. It's so comfortable.
It's beautifully made, beautifully put together.
If you're doing a Grand Tour, this is what you want to be in.
Unless, that is, you want your Grand Tour to be a bit more exciting.
Oh, my word.
This car wants to play.
It might not be the fastest McLaren,
but I can tell you it's fast enough.
It does 0 to 60 in 3.2 seconds, top speed 203 mph.
People will say, "Oh, it's too supercar."
When has that ever been a problem?
It's a McLaren.
Yes, it is,
but what it still isn't is a proper grand tourer.
Historically, for a truly grand Grand Tour, you needed 12 cylinders
and the Bentley has a W12 engine.
In fact, this thing is just an orgy of numbers.
626 horsepower, 664 foot-pounds of torque
pushing two and a half tonnes -
two and a half tonnes! - to 207 mph.
How on earth do you get something this big
and heavy to those kinds of speeds?
And it does 0 to 60 in under four seconds. It's outrageous.
Oh, beautiful now. This is nice.
I just can't believe that Aston Martin allowed Ford
to basically nick its grill design from the last 30 years
because now even a Fiesta looks like the front of that Aston Martin.
I don't mean to be sizeist, but do you have a booster seat in that car?
The only thing about seeing Paddy driving that car,
I actually can't see him. I can just see his hair.
You just blend in, Paddy, to that colour.
Chris, are you going to tell us where we're going?
Oh, Andrew, I've got a treat here.
I've booked us a little place by the sea.
A little place called
Anglesey circuit.
The most picturesque racetrack in Britain,
and also one of the best to drive.
Hey, hey! Good lad, Harris.
This is a proper day out now.
You'd want to go sideways through the quick right-hander.
Big oversteer!
Wow.
I tell you what - the absurdity of engineering a car this big
to behave like this on a track is wonderfully silly.
This is so much fun!
It's unbelievable, this thing.
Here we go now. Turn her in. So nimble.
This is what a grand tourer should be able to do.
Whoa!
This is a slippy track.
There she goes. There she goes.
Ha-ha!
Before things got out of hand,
the producers decided it was time for some proper testing.
To see which of our GTs was quickest,
each of us would set the fastest time we could around the track -
and it would be a staggered start.
Lads, why are we doing a staggered start, anyhow?
I think it's to avoid a massive very expensive first-corner accident.
That's a very good point, Christopher.
OK, Paddy, in three,
two, one, go!
McGuinness looking good.
He missed his apex, but you can't have it all.
Oh, that's wet!
That's greasy.
OK, Chris, in three,
two, one, go!
Oh. Now she feels big. Now she feels big.
OK, Freddie, in three,
two, one, go!
Come on!
Oh, twitchy.
Use all the circuit. Use all the circuit, catch McGuinness.
Come on! I'm torn here. I really want to go fast.
I want to beat Harris...
..but I don't want to crash the car.
Do you know what? I'm not using this car to its full potential.
I'm going off-road.
Let's get down here.
Come on, old girl.
There's a bit of speed to be had through here if I really gun it.
No sign of McGuinness.
I've gone a bit fast on the corners, taken a couple a little bit wide.
Oh, I enjoyed that.
Come on, old girl.
And over the line.
Coming round, coming round. Oh, I've gone too fast!
Come on, hang on, hang on!
Lovely stuff!
Well done, son. In the SUV.
Thank you very much, Mr Flintoff.
I mean, I think I might be
the first person who's had the backend out in a DBX.
You know this track like the back of your hand, Chris.
You're a racing driver. How have I beat you?
Because you're in a McLaren, and I'm in a limousine.
He's not best pleased.
Let's be honest - how on earth
has he got within a second of me in that car?
It's a tonne heavier.
More's the point - how on earth Aston's SUV had got
ahead of both of us was because its driver is a cheating snake.
I tell you something, though,
you come round this one, you've got to be careful.
Ha, is that what you did, Paddy?
You've just cut out half the lap.
I was showing the car's all-round abilities.
The only thing I can say in his defence - he's using what he's got.
That's the first piece of thinking I've seen from Paddy McGuinness
since I met him. Thank you very much, sir.
I tell you, though, one thing - these three cars on this track,
this is the best country in the world. I'll agree with that.
You don't need to go anywhere else. We've got it all here.
We are driving round this track in the best of British, lads.
It's a day to feel very proud, this.
Eh-up, what's going on here?
I don't know. What IS going on here, Pad?
I'm going to go and investigate.
Right...
Portia Panamera Turbo S E-hybrid Sport Turismo,
Mercedes AMG GT R PRO,
Audi RS Q8.
Thank you.
Britain isn't the only country
that builds great grand tourers.
So does Germany.
To find out who does it better, your cars will now compete
against their German equivalents in a series of challenges.
Who's driving them?
None other than one of the finest German racing drivers of all time -
F1 legend Heinz-Harald Frentzen.
Lads, we're in a bit of trouble here.
Those are very fast cars
and he's a very good Formula 1 driver. How good?
Used-to-beat-Schumacher-type fast.
Hi. You all right?
Oh, God!
Lads, no disrespect here.
Bentley, McLaren, Aston...
No contest. You're sure about that? No contest?
Challenge one...
A grand tourer must make life easy on its driver
so you will now compete in a cruise-control race.
McLaren versus Mercedes,
one lap of the circuit using only the cruise-control buttons.
No touching the pedals.
Yes.
In this super GT shoot-out, it would be Flintoff in his McLaren
against Frentzen in a very potent Mercedes.
Capable of almost 200mph,
the GT R PRO packs almost as much power as the McLaren
but with all the wings and fins of a true track specialist.
So it was just as well, then,
that none of that would matter in a cruise-control race.
Don't call him Herman.
Heinz-Harald.
So, remember you have to accelerate
and decelerate using the cruise control.
If you put your foot on the brake or the accelerator,
you'll get penalty points.
Roger. Understood.
Best of British to you, Heinz!
Three, two, one, go!
"Best of British to you, Heinz?" Well, he's in our country.
I'm giving him a warm... Heinz make ketchup. HAI-NTZ. Who? He's HAI-NTZ.
He's going very quickly for a man just on cruise control.
God, he's going fast. How is he going to stop?
Oh, no, he's wound it up, he's got it, he's wound it right back. Watch.
Brake lights. Brake lights.
No, he's not. Fair play to him. Fair play to him.
What we are seeing here is the subtlety and skill of a genuine
F1 talent.
What are we deploying into this competition? Ex-cricketer. Yeah.
Very well done, Heinz.
Well, we think we saw the brake lights come on, didn't we?
At one point. Yeah, brake lights.
We saw brake lights. No. No way.
Oh, you've got your game face.
He is grinning. Look at that grin. No way. No way.
Anyhow, this event was made for Flintoff,
because he doesn't have to touch a brake pedal.
Best of luck, Fred.
Three, two,
one, go!
Here we go. Get up to 30 and then get the cruise on.
Cruise. We're off. Yes! He's under way.
Accelerating, it's not too bad. Up to 55.
Oh! That was close.
I'm hanging on for dear life here.
I've done all right. Go on. Now out. Out, out. Go on, pick up.
Go, go, go!
See, I think he's going too fast there.
He's going to break here. This is too fast.
I'm up to 88, I'm going to slow down.
He's got to use the brakes.
Down! Slow down! I'm going to have to touch the brakes here.
Surely he must have known he was going too quick.
I'm going into this at 43. Oh, it's too slow, Fred, it's too slow.
Get on with it, Flintoff!
No.
Come on now, go, go, go!
Over the line!
Come on! Go, go, go, go, go, go!
And over the line.
So, our first battle was over and, with the dust
falling on a typically balmy Welsh evening, the results were in.
Heinz-Harald, you went round in 2:19:1
and you didn't touch the pedals.
Freddie, you went round in 2:22:7
and you touched the pedal once. Oh, Fred!
That's a one-second penalty,
so the winner is Heinz-Harald
and it's 1-0 to Germany.
Thank you. Well done.
A familiar scoreline.
What are you clapping for?
What... what are you clapping?
What are you clapping?
I can't believe you lost, Fred.
Yeah, but Heinz gave it the beans, didn't he? Oh, God!
Oh, come on, you can give me that one. No. No? No.
Well, remember he's an F1 driver.
Stick him in the nets, put a bat in his hand,
I'll lob a few down, different story.
I have literally no idea what you're talking about.
Cricket, Paddy, cricket. Oh, yeah, that one, yeah, the boring one.
Anyhow... Oh! ..we'll get back to that film a little later
when the challenges get even weirder.
But as we're all about the best of British tonight,
time for a change of pace.
Earlier this year, Britain lost one of its true greats - legendary
racing driver Sir Stirling Moss passed away at the age of 90.
We wanted to pay our respects.
To most people, Stirling Moss is a legendary figure,
a white-helmeted begoggled head flashing past at around 150mph
against a background of the international Grand Prix circuits.
Sir Stirling Moss was everything a racing driver should be.
Moss is in the lead.
Speeding with his usual unruffled skill towards the finish.
Sports car, F1 car, even land-speed racer,
he was supremely fast
whatever he drove.
Perhaps the greatest single phenomenon in the post-war
world of motor racing has been the rise to fame of a British
driver called Stirling Moss.
He was also supremely competitive, taking more than 200 victories
across a career that helped
to define what it meant to be a racing driver.
I think if you look back on the early racing drivers
and you look at the beginning of the '50s, you know,
Stirling Moss stood out from that crowd as young, focused,
the first professional Grand Prix driver.
We met as two very keen young drivers wishing to try
and make their way in motor racing and we were
both very, very competitive,
but you appreciated that you were
taking your life in your hands,
and Stirling recognised it was
dangerous and was a professional through and through.
But Stirling Moss was, above all else, a gentleman,
a man of his word.
Just ask Ferrari.
In the early '50s,
Moss is the brightest young thing on the racing scene.
A series of barnstorming victories bring him to
the attention of the most powerful man in motorsport, Enzo Ferrari.
In August 1951, at the age of just 21,
Moss gets the call from Enzo asking him to drive for Ferrari.
It's a rare opportunity.
Ferrari is the biggest, richest race team on the planet
and no Englishman has ever driven for them before.
Imagine the excitement for a young racer with their dream drive
so tantalisingly close.
I went all the way down to Bari in southern Italy
with my father, being thrilled that I had been offered to go
and drive for Ferrari. I mean, this is really the thing.
But when Moss gets there, he finds Enzo has reneged on their deal
and given the car to a veteran Italian driver instead.
I found that the car had been given to Taruffi.
Not that I felt anything about Taruffi - I don't blame him -
but I think they might have cabled me and said,
"Look, Mr Taruffi's got the car,"
and I was pretty annoyed. This really hurt you, Stirling?
I wouldn't say it hurt me, but it sure got me fired up.
Boy, did it!
1955 - the Mille Miglia.
A thousand-mile nonstop charge around Italy's public roads.
It is Moss's first opportunity to exact his revenge on Enzo's
ungentlemanly conduct.
One of the most dangerous races on the calendar held in Ferrari's
own back yard, it is considered
all but impossible to win without local knowledge.
Ferrari are heavy favourites, but Moss - driving a beautiful
Mercedes 300 SLR - has a secret weapon - well, two secret weapons.
The first - a fearless navigator in the form of eccentric
motoring journalist Denis Jenkinson.
The second was this.
Moss called it the bog roll -
a detailed guide to every corner
and every hazard on the 1,000-mile route.
Basically prototype pace notes.
As Moss drove like a madman, Jenkinson would scroll through this
and translate the notes into hand signals for Stirling to understand.
Talk about trust.
To maintain the schedule of the Mille Miglia,
cars travel at up to 180mph,
often on bad roads with additional hazards from crowds of spectators.
Covering the 1,000-mile course in ten hours and seven minutes,
Moss doesn't just beat the Italians - he obliterates them.
Can you imagine driving the roads of Italy for 1,000 miles
at an average speed of 99mph?
Even if they closed the roads today, that would be somewhat challenging.
In the end, Moss finishes over half an hour ahead
of the second-placed Ferrari.
It is the greatest feat of endurance driving in history.
A superhuman effort.
And after celebrating the win with his team,
he doesn't turn in for a well-earned kip -
oh, no, he drives through the night,
across the Alps to Germany
to meet a girl... for lunch.
Moss may have played hard against Ferrari but he also played fair.
At the 1958 Portuguese Grand Prix, stewards disqualify Mike Hawthorne -
Moss's closest title rival - for restarting his stalled Ferrari
by pushing it the wrong way back onto the track.
Moss wins but is incensed.
He complains to the stewards,
insisting his rival has done nothing wrong.
Convinced by his argument, they reinstate the Ferrari
driver's points and he joins Moss for the winner's lap of honour.
It was very, very sporting of Stirling to defend Mike.
I don't know any other driver, frankly,
who would have done that for anybody.
That year, Moss loses
the championship to Hawthorn by one single point,
the fourth year in a row he's finished second.
If it wasn't for his sportsmanship, he'd have won the title.
Moss didn't just live for the win -
he lived for the challenge...
..again and again getting behind the wheel of underdog cars
just to see if he could embarrass the bigger, better-funded teams.
If you can take a private car and then beat the factory
with their very latest cars, it is far more exhilarating.
And, as if the challenge wasn't already great enough,
this was his attitude during Formula One's most lethal era.
Imagine barrelling around a street circuit at 100-and-something mph
between buildings and lampposts, knowing that the slightest
mistake could be the end of you, wearing only these for protection...
..and driving this.
The Lotus 18.
A fragile spindle of metal weighing less than half a tonne.
A machine dedicated solely to speed
and lightness with no concession to safety.
Crash protection? Forget it.
Stirling didn't even bother with side panels.
But it was in this very car that Sir Stirling gave us
his greatest F1 drive of all.
One of the great sporting performances of all time,
at the 1961 Monaco Grand Prix.
All around the twisting, turning 1.9 mile circuit
spectators are gathered.
Up the hill from Sainte Devote,
Moss keeps the veteran Lotus well up amongst
a field of brand-new 1961 models.
Though a competitive car the previous year,
by 1961, Moss's Lotus 18 is hopelessly outdated.
Up against a trio of powerful, new sharp-nosed Ferraris,
he isn't expected to make the podium,
let alone challenge for victory.
But Moss, typically, decides to prove a point to old Enzo.
Even though he was way down on power in his little Lotus...
..Stirling took the lead early and he refused to give it back.
With the Ferrari as his constant shadow,
Stirling demonstrates what happens when an irresistible force
of Ferraris meets an immovable object like Moss.
Those two Ferraris took turns trying to catch him
but he held them off for the whole race,
wringing every ounce of performance from this tiny racing car.
Oh!
It's so delicate and light and responsive.
The steering just takes tiny inputs
and it just squirms around in your hand.
Edging to a 1.5-litre Coventry Climax, about 150 horsepower,
but this thing weighs under 450kg!
For the race, he had the side panels removed for more ventilation.
And the sense of exposure is humbling.
I mean, I can stick my arm out. Look at that.
And look at my seatbelts.
Well, you can't look at my seat belts, because there aren't any.
Oh!
And you, Chris, just for ten minutes, can be Stirling Moss.
This is my childhood fantasy.
Hoo-hoo!
On days like these, Chris,
on days like these...
I think I'm a bit teary.
And the flag falls for Stirling Moss.
Moss, against all the odds, drove one of his greatest races.
Through the tight streets of Monaco,
he held them off for three hours,
winning the race by three seconds.
What a performance.
What a machine!
Moss's Monaco drive wasn't just one of the greatest of his career -
it was enough to make the famously stubborn Enzo Ferrari
finally swallow his pride.
He invites Moss to Ferrari's headquarters
and lays on a reception fit for the Pope.
"I need you," Enzo tells Moss.
"Tell me the car you want and I'll build it for you."
"OK," says Moss, "I'll drive a Ferrari,
"but not a red one - paint it blue - like my Lotus."
The deal is done.
The fastest driver on the F1 grid will drive the fastest car
on the F1 grid.
The World Championship will surely now be Moss's.
But before Stirling can make his debut for Ferrari,
disaster strikes.
In early 1962, before the start of the F1 season,
Moss is racing heat at Goodwood in a Lotus when he has a crash,
right here on this corner.
A huge crash.
I had had a stop, I'd lost time, I was passing,
as far as I can understand it,
a place that I would never consider passing under normal conditions.
I wasn't dicing for the last corner of the last lap.
All I do know is that I went off the road in a place that
I never should have gone off.
The impact is devastating, smashing Stirling's back, his skull
and both legs.
World reaction staggered even his closest friends and admirers.
The burning question became - would he ever drive again?
In a coma for a month,
Moss's condition isn't just national news,
it's international news.
Frank Sinatra regularly calls the hospital to find out how
the English racing driver is doing.
Moss survived, but the crash didn't just end his season -
it ended his career.
Once he'd recovered his fitness,
he discovered he'd lost that racing edge,
those whip-crack reactions, and he retired immediately.
At the age of just 32,
Stirling Moss' F1 career was over -
and he never did get that F1 drive for Ferrari.
So, motor racing loses one of its brightest stars.
We salute a great driver.
Moss would always be known as the greatest racer never to win
the F1 drivers' title.
Somehow, in terms of Stirling Moss, that doesn't mean much.
He has established a new set of values in motor racing
and he is the standard by which motor racing is judged.
He was someone that embraced commitment,
bravery,
and was modest to the end.
He always had my admiration
and I will admire Stirling
to the day I die.
And maybe, after all, Moss was lucky.
In the '50s and '60s, if you raced in F1 for five years,
there was a 75% chance you'd die.
Moss managed ten years, so by rights he should have been dead twice over.
Retirement almost certainly robbed him of the world title
he so richly deserved but it meant we could enjoy
the company of this brilliant man for another 60 years.
In our minds, we shall always remember him
immaculate in blue with white helmet,
an air of calm serenity masking an all-out tense, tense effort...
..and going like the hammers of hell.
Sir Stirling Moss wasn't just one of our greatest racing drivers -
he was one of our greatest men.
The very best of British.
He was one of a kind. There will never be another one like him.
Really sad. True sporting legend. Absolutely. Absolutely.
And now it's time to get back to our grand tourer showdown, where,
as you'll remember, we were taking on the might of Germany.
Fred had lost the first head-to-head,
but there was still plenty more to play for.
Day two of our Welsh Grand Tour and our battle against our German
GT rivals continued at the magnificent Plas Newydd estate.
Next up, it would be Bentley versus Porsche in a trial of comfort,
each taking a willing test dummy hooked up to a heart rate
monitor for a relaxing ride in the passenger seat.
Well, "a" passenger seat.
Oh, dear.
Oh, dear, dear.
Now, you've seen some things in your life, but you've never seen that.
Don't want to stress him, Chris.
It's about keeping his heart rate down.
Which would be easier said than done.
Because, in a timed lap of the grounds, each car would have
to negotiate twisting gravel tracks,
a steep descent whose run-off area is the sea,
plus a smattering of bushes, branches and low-grip grass.
But the passenger whose heart rate spiked the highest
would cost their team a time penalty.
So, reassuringly,
smoothness would be as important as speed in this test.
How are you feeling?
There's a safety aspect to this.
The thing is, I do feel like a massive jockey.
Yeah, on a very comfortable horse.
Should we have the flying B up or down? Always up.
Because the Germans can't do that,
they can't say, "Do you want your Porsche badge up or down," can they?
No, exactly.
Oh, fantastic.
You've just put that up, it's something else to impale myself on.
Right, gentlemen, are you ready? Yeah.
We're 1-0 down. Best of British to you. We need this.
Three, two, one, go!
Oh, go on, Harris!
Oh, God.
Go on, Chris, as fast as you want, son, I don't mind. This is amazing.
Fred, you are a lunatic!
Why would you tell him, "Go as fast as you want"?
Now, a normal person should find this kind of thing at least
a little bit unsettling.
I would not want to be up there.
But good news for Team Britain -
Flintoff is not normal.
Actually, I think he'll be fine.
Cos Fred's got the resting heart rate of a blue whale.
This morning, I had to put a mirror under his nose to check
he were breathing.
Come on, Benters.
Just pottering round a country estate.
What does that feel like up there? What does that feel like up there?
The air suspension just glides.
Mind the tree.
This is so narrow.
Silence. He's either crashed or...
..he's put it into comfort mode.
Oh, yes, he's going sideways.
It's like we're driving into the sea.
Please stop. Please stop. Right in the ABS. It won't stop.
King of the world!
Oh, ho, ho! Don't want to stop.
It's so big.
It's quite a treat, this.
Oh, bottomed out. Go on, Chris, give it some.
He's encouraging me to go faster!
Whoa.
Proper tight down here.
Oh.
Here we are.
He's been eating a banana.
Nicely done, Chris. What do you reckon, Fred? What do you reckon?
I tell you what - it was bloody lovely up here, Chris. So smooth.
Well driven, mate.
I'm glad you had a bit of fun, lads.
Nice to see you're happy.
I were going to say go and chill out but you look quite relaxed.
I'm so happy. This air suspension and Chris Harris, oh, -
it's a lovely fusion.
Right, next up's the Porsche. Well, who's going on the roof of that?
I've done mine.
Oh, yes, McGuinness was up.
And strapped to the top of one of Porsche's fastest Panamiras.
You all right?
With nearly 50 horsepower more than the Bentley
and better acceleration, Germany looked to have the upper hand.
Especially since McGuinness had raided the big house
for a comforter in a surprising bid to play fair.
Now, listen, lads, I know we're all on the same team,
but the world's watching and we've got to show what Britain
does best, and that's being sportsmanlike,
so I'm trying to stay as calm as possible.
Is the roof supposed to
have all those creases in it where the sucker cups are?
I wouldn't know. It's not something I've done that often.
Have you noticed there's a lot fewer sucker cups than he had for his run?
Like half as many. Yes. Yes.
Listen, I appreciate you're trying to get my heart rate up
and I'm on your team, essentially. I want you to win, but...
What else makes him get wound up? Hair. Yeah.
I'm not getting involved.
Second funniest man from Bolton, maybe third because Peter Kay...
I'm sat at home as a young child on my bed cuddling my teddy.
No, you're not - you're looking at a long straight before a stately home.
That thing could be doing 90 by the time you get there. 90, Paddy.
Heinz, you OK? Yeah. Yeah? Alles Gute.
Don't do the German accent to him
before he's got to drive with me on the roof.
OK, I think we're ready to go. OK, are you ready?
Drei, zwei, eins... Los!
Auf Wiedersehen!
Did you see it go?
Oh, my God.
Oh, no.
Oh, no, no, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no. He's like a rag doll.
A ragdoll working well for Team Britain.
That's a tree!
That's a... Oh, my...
And while I had been at least a little bit
concerned about my rooftop passenger...
..it turned out Frentzen... Teddy... wasn't.
Heinz, he doesn't really care, does he?
He hasn't come all the way here from the Fatherland to basically
come second, has he?
No. No.
Nein! Nein!
Do you know what? If I didn't live in England, I'd live in Germany.
I love Germany.
Right.
Slower, Heinz! Oh, no! Oh, God.
And I do love a sausage.
Me too, but I'm not moving all the way to Germany for one.
Yeah, but their sausages are great.
Not when you can get a Richmond in Asda.
Slower!
Pffffff!
I think I just swallowed a bluebottle.
A Cumberland wheel.
Oh, I do like a Cumberland wheel with a stick through it.
Yeah? Yeah.
Oh, this is not good!
Nein! Nein!
Nein!
Oh, Jesus, the backend's out.
Oh, God!
Aaaaaaaaah!
All good?
What?
In the list of unpleasant things you've done, how high up was that?
That's, uh, just under the Wall Of Death
and just above vasectomy.
So, yeah, not nice.
The question was, though, which team had come out on top?
Well, the results are in, gentlemen.
Team Britain...
Yes. That's us, isn't it?
Two minutes 20.7.
No idea if that's good or bad. It felt fast.
Team Germany...
Two minutes... Yep. ..20.7. No!
Shut up! No way. Exactly... Exactly the same.
Shut up. I don't think I've ever seen that.
Do you know, the thing I like is the difference in reactions.
Chris is really happy, Heinz-Harald not so.
So, lads, it all comes down to the heartbeats.
It's me versus the blue whale. Here we go. OK.
Freddie, you peaked at 160bpm.
Really? That's high.
That's high.
I peaked at 16... 9 bpm. Wow.
It's a win for Team Britain.
Nine beats, Heinz-Harald, that's not much.
I'm sorry, I've let you down, son, I was trying my best to stay calm.
I couldn't drive any slower. Come on!
It didn't feel that slow when I was up there.
Excuse me.
Well done, boys. Well done, your heart rate. Good lad.
It's come in handy, that.
Right, 1-1. It's all on the decider.
How many people can say,
"I sat on top of a Porsche driven by Heinz-Harald"?
Yeah, you're certainly in a select group.
I don't know how many people can say they've sat on top of Chris Harris.
Oh, there's a long queue there, Fred.
I'm not going to lie - it was an absolute treat.
Before we could explore that little road any further,
it was time for the last of our grand tourer showdowns.
And the decider would play out against the spectacular
backdrop of Penrhyn Quarry.
What have we got here?
A challenge.
A great Grand Tour should be quick in the hands of even a novice
driver, no matter the road conditions.
It's time to see if the Aston has what it takes in a time trial
hill climb. There's only one Aston driver, isn't there?
I have every faith in you. Thank you, sir.
And, also, one little note, Fred, your reading's getting better.
I don't know - I stumbled over "tourer".
It's getting there, though. You got the gist. You got the gist.
That's pretty nippy, though,
and it's got Heinz-Harald behind the wheel.
I was going to say - that's no novice. No. That's no novice.
Although I don't think his speciality is quarry skidding.
Is that yours, though, Paddy? No, not really, but we'll give it a go.
Paddy, Paddy, Paddy, it's 1-1.
It's the best of British. Ah.
It's all on you, son.
Yes, to see if the Aston could make even a driver like McGuinness
quick over a challenging road,
our final GT test would be a hill climb with a difference.
In a timed run up a winding gravel track to the finish line
at the top of the quarry,
Frentzen would set off first in Audi's devastatingly quick
592 horsepower RS Q8, with McGuinness following a few
seconds later in his slower, less powerful DBX.
And to prove the Aston's worth
in this true uphill battle, Paddy would have to finish
within ten seconds of Frentzen's time, which,
as the producers were keen to point out, was one second for every
year the German legend had spent in F1, at the pinnacle of motorsport.
But, whatever the result, the winner would be rewarded with
the quick way back down the hill.
The one thing he will do, Paddy, he'll push. He'll push it so hard.
He is competitive. Yeah. He'll risk going off the side.
OK, Heinz-Harald,
in three, two, one, go!
You can see him here. Look at him - he's going, he's going.
And Paddy McGuinness,
in three, two, one, go!
Come on!
Look at that. Go on, here he is.
Woohoo!
It sounds good. Noisy. It sounds good.
Whoa, there's still dust down from Heinz's run.
Got to get within ten seconds... Of Heinz Harald. Come on, Pad.
Oh, this is... sketchy!
Bad news for Team Britain - if Frentzen wasn't a quarry specialist,
he was doing one hell of a job at faking it.
Wow.
Do you think he's got a chance? Well, it looks bloody fast.
Look at the rooster tail of dust coming off the back of it.
Come on.
McGuinness was giving it his all.
I am doing a bit of rallying
in a £160,000 Aston Martin DBX.
But approaching the halfway mark, to stand any chance...
Whoa-whoa-whoa!
..he'd have to find another level.
Would you describe Paddy McGuinness as a brave man?
I've always said there's a fine line between bravery and stupidity. Yep.
Paddy had never treaded that line. He's stupid. Yeah.
Again, again, again, go on, go on, go on.
Come on, go, go.
I'm doing it for Gareth Southgate,
I'm doing it for Stuart Pearce.
I'm doing it for Chrissie Waddle,
Darius Vassell.
This is for you, boys!
Come on. Where are they? Where are they? Oh, there they are, see? See?
Left turn, left turn, left turn, let's go, go, go, go.
That's going to cost me a few seconds.
I think he's more than ten seconds, don't you?
I think he's struggling here. Come on, Pad.
Oh!
So slidy.
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Come on.
As Frentzen barrelled across the finish line...
Come on!
..McGuinness had just a ten-second window to win.
Where are they?
Oh!
Oh, ho, ho!
Ha!
Are they done?
I have literally no idea how I did then.
So, with both cars safely to the top of the climb,
the only question now was
had our novice driver and his underdog Aston done enough?
I think we're going to get the news imminently.
This is like when they deliver
the Eurovision results, you know, you're just waiting.
"It was slippy, lads. I couldn't see." Here we go, here we go. Go on.
Not good news, I'm afraid.
One of you is going to have to get your hands in your pocket,
get down the off-licence and buy us some champagne,
cos we did it, boys!
Well done, Paddy, my son.
I've got to tell you - the position I'm in at the minute,
Chris, I don't feel like a winner.
Oh, ho, ho!
Oh, my God!
There he is. I've got him. I've got him here. He looks like a meteor.
Woo!
I am flying!
Oh, he's lit up. He's like a rubbish Halley's Comet.
Woo!
Here he comes.
Yes, boys, we've done it!
Oh, Jesus.
Go on, Paddy, lad.
Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho!
That got the old bottom twitching, boys - let me tell you.
Paddy, that is a great effort and a great result for Team GB.
A great result.
Paddy, I'm not going to say this very often, but I'm proud of you.
Thank you, boys. Well done, Paddy, lad. We did it, brothers. We did it.
Well done, mate. Come on, let's go.
Boys?
Lads, what about Team GB spirit and all that?
Boys?
Boys!
I can't feel my legs.
I'm getting pins and needles, lads.
Finally, 2-1.
All right. All right.
2-1.
Yes!
2-1 to Britain! Finally, we beat the Germans in a penalty shoot-out.
And it's all thanks to these beautiful British cars.
Look at them.
Is now a good time to mention that Bentley is owned by a German
company and the Aston is kind of full of German bits?
Why do you always have to ruin it? It's facts.
These cars are as British as Marmite. Invented by a German, Pad.
What, Marmite? Yes. Really? Yes. News to me, that one, as well.
To be honest, they can keep it.
Let's focus on what's important here.
I just beat a guy with three - three - Formula 1 wins.
That officially makes me an F1 legend. Thank you.
Thank you. Shush.
Paddy, stop it. Paddy, it's not conkers, Pad.
You don't take all the wins of someone you've beat.
And you didn't even beat him - you just managed to keep up with him.
Can we talk about the cars now, lads?
Normally, this is the point where we have a big argument
about which is best,
but actually all three of them are pretty wonderful.
We're all in agreement. If I could hug you both, I would.
This doesn't happen very often here. Fantastic.
Three brilliant British GTs.
Two of them aren't technically GTs, but you know...
Oh, have a day off, Chris, will you? Geez.
That's it until next week, which is the last show of the series,
and get your tickets early because it's a blockbuster.
Strictly, eat your heart out.
Top Gear's doing Blackpool!
See you, then! Good night!