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Hello and welcome to this, the Top Gear
post-nuclear apocalypse bunker.

Can we also say straightaway
that we're very sorry about our appearance,

but we were outside
minding our own business having a picnic

when this happened.

To be honest, the only reason we survived

was because we had our backs
to the massive blast.

But survive we did,
and we've been sitting here wondering

what will motoring be like
in a post-apocalyptic world?

Well, fortunately, the holocaust occurred right at
the beginning of the Christmas gifting period,

so post-apocalyptic motoring is exactly
the subject we shall be tackling

in this cheerful yuletide DVD.

(People screaming)

(Richard) So, settle back as we show you how
to get to work in the perpetual darkness

of a nuclear winter.

(James) Oh, God.
(Richard) Oh, no.

How to survive the ruthless
post-apocalyptic MOT test...

I'm stuck!

Oh, mate, you're gonna fail at that rate,
you're not doing well.

... how to keep motor racing alive
with just two racing drivers...

No! Bad! Bad!

... and with only one barrel of petrol left
on the planet,

we'll be choosing the cars we'd take
our very last drives in.

But we begin with the issue of driving in the
phenomenon known as "The Nuclear Winter".

This is what scientists believe will happen
in the aftermath of a nuclear war,

when millions and millions of tons of dust
and ash are thrown up into the atmosphere

by the explosion of all the nuclear weapons,

plunging the world into
an eternal icy darkness

that goes on for years and years and years.

When all of humanity, all of its love,
its art and its science,

is wiped out forever.

Yeah.

If you are watching this on Christmas day
and that's put a dampener on things...

sorry.

Yes, he does have a point
but it is a very important issue

and scientists have wondered...

how will we drive to work?

To you, this might look like a scene
from 28 Days Later.

But it's not, because we've never actually
seen that film.

What this is is London in the nuclear winter.

Now, try to imagine a world where the sun
is permanently blotted out,

a world where you cannot see
your hand in front of your face,

a world where ELO could not possibly
have written Mr Blue Sky.

Yeah. Do please try and imagine that
because it would help us enormously.

As you can see, there is in fact still,
quite a lot of light around.

Nevertheless, it's our job to demonstrate
how hard it would be to commute

during a nuclear winter,

which is why we shall be trying
to get to work in these.

These two cars have been totally blacked out

to replicate the driving conditions
of a nuclear winter,

and our job is to drive to work
from opposite ends of London

and to get there without hitting each other,
or anything.

But it's not quite as grim as it sounds,
is it, Hammond?

No. Because thankfully, scientists believe one
of the few things to survive a nuclear holocaust

would be satnav systems.

So, with the help of these handy devices,

we should be able to drive blind.

James, if you'd like to drive to the other side
of town and get into position,

- we can get started.
- Righto.

Yeah. Obviously in a real nuclear winter
situation, that wouldn't work.

Soon our cars were parked in opposite ends
of London and ready to go.

- Am I moving? Yes, I'm moving.
- (Satnav) After 300 yards, turn left,

then take the second right.

Right. Now, the satnav
is telling me straight on,

so straight on it is.

Erm... bit of left.

(Satnav) After 300 yards...

(Crunch)

Ooh. That's not good.

... then take the second right.

After 200 yards, turn right.

That's wrong. I know it's ridiculous to argue
with a satnav when you can't actually see, but...

Oh, I think I might have...
Go a bit harder right.

- Oh! Ow!
- Turn left, then turn left.

Bear right, then turn right.

OK, I'm negotiating a curve by satnav.

Turn right.

I think I'll just back it up.

Obviously if your car is pulling slightly
to the left or right,

that's potentially a problem area
when you're driving blind,

and I don't think you can get your wheels
balanced and your tyres checked

in a post-holocaust scenario.

OK, I think we're back on the road.

No, I'm not.

After 200 yards, turn right.

I need to do a bit of a...
There's a slight delay in the satnav.

I'm trying to feel it, I'm trying to feel
the vibes coming off obstructions.

Something very, very rough there.

Satnav says straight ahead.

- (Thud)
- Eurgh.

That's not right, is it?

- James?
- Hello?

Is it my imagination or is this the hardest thing
we've ever tried to do?

Ah!

(James) It's absolutely impossible. Oh God,
sorry, I'm gonna have to deal with this.

- Go around the roundabout...
- No!

...third exit...
- No.

- Turn right.
- No wonder people get all hot under the collar

about nuclear war and stuff, this is tricky!

Oh.

No, that's wrong, clearly.

Oh dear.

- (Crunch)
- Ah, it's not a good sound, is it?

(Richard) Eventually though,
after a bit of practice

we started to get in tune with the satnavs.

(Satnav) After 50 yards, turn right.

I'd say this was going reasonably well so far,
but I can't afford to relax.

Because experts predict that
fallout and radiation from the blast

will cause unusually large numbers of people

to go to Argos and buy bouncy castles
and try and carry them home on the bus.

It is also possible
that during the atomic blast,

massive pyramids of things like baked beans
and tomato soup in supermarkets

will have been blown into the sky and then will
have reassembled themselves on the road,

- which is an obvious hazard.
- In 200 yards, turn left, then turn left.

Scientists also believe that in the future,
people driven mad by radioactivity

will start building flat-pack bedrooms
right in the middle of the road.

After 100 yards, turn left.

Do you think it might have been
beans or soup?

Could be worse, there could be fireworks
lying around.

(Fireworks booming and whistling)

After several more brushes with
nuclear winter-related obstacles,

James and I had almost reached
our place of work.

(Satnav) Turn left then...
You have reached your destination.

Ah! Aha! Aha!

Turn right then...
You have reached your destination.

How comforting a sound would that be
on your nuclear winter commute to work?

(Crash)

- James! James!
- What?

I've crashed.

You crashed into something
or were you crashed into?

I think something just crashed into me.

I think something crashed into me.

- Sound your horn.
- (Beep)

(Beep)

- (James) That's you.
- Yeah, we've crashed... Oh.

Well, erm, let's wait until some
post-apocalyptic nuclear winter police arrive.

(Siren blaring)

(Crash)

I think the police might be here.

Then some other nuclear survivors
arrived for work.

(James) God, now what?

This is the nuclear rush hour
of the nuclear winter

Nobody expected that!

(Siren blaring)

(James) Oh, God.
(Richard) Oh, no.

Hang on.

I think I can smell petrol.

In the radioactive aftermath, those of us
who have been lucky enough to survive

will inevitably start asking questions.

"Did any of my friends survive?"
"Did any of my relations?"

"Will civilisation as we knew it ever return?"

Yes. And quite right too.

But if you're a petrol head, you'll find yourself
facing a much more important question.

Namely this -
eventually, in a post-apocalyptic world,

there will be only one barrel of petrol left.

And which cars would you put it in
to go for your very last ever drives?

Yes, this is a cracker of a dilemma,

and one that scientists will debate in
post-apocalyptic pubs for many years to come.

But we've decided to have a crack at it now

by choosing those cars in which
we would have our very last drives.

(Richard) I shall go first by taking
a final drive with an old friend.

Students of Top Gear will recognise this
as the Bowler Nemesis,

except this one is a little bit different.

The Bowler, as we know, was bred to survive
in tough, unforgiving places.

Quarries, deserts and so on.

But this new one has gone up in the world.

Instead of bare metal and bucket seats,

you now have this bachelor pad,

festooned with dark leather, carbon fibre,
stereo equipment and air-conditioning.

Even the windows are electrical.

And to a normal Bowler user,
that is witchcraft.

So the question now is, has this new Bowler
still got what it takes to survive

when things get tough?

Now according to top scientists,

central London would be radically changed
in a nuclear blast.

Big Ben, Buckingham Palace
and all the other stuff

will be knocked about and re-arranged

into a race track, a tough off-roadie place,

and a massive beach.

Now, obviously, the Bowler will still be around,

but something else will have survived
the holocaust.

The paparazzi. Yeah.

The people who enrich your life with a
photograph of Will Young buying a coffee,

or a Girl Aloud feeding a meter.

So, to test this Bowler, my job is to evade
a paparazzi over all sorts of terrain,

He can use any kind of vehicle he likes.

I've got to stop him getting a picture of me
at the wheel, in focus.

And the first is on Tarmac, against this.

Ooh, a Jaguar XKR.

(Shutter clicking)

Now, that's interesting, because this Nemesis
is using exactly the same engine as that Jag,

a five-litre supercharged V8.

Both cars weight the same, about 1.7 tons.

That Jag, 503 brake horsepower

but amazingly, Bowler managed to squeeze
an extra 20 brake horsepower into the engine

for the Nemesis.

So my power to weight ratio
is better than his.

Right, let's sprint!

Nought to 60, 4.2 seconds.

Try your sneaky shot now!

There was no doubt that on the straights
the Nemesis was killing Jaguar's finest,

but when it came to the corners there was
one massive flaw in team Bowler...

me!

Annoyingly, I rather suspect...
he's a better driver than me!

That's the problem I have.

Ooh! He's alongside, oh no!

I saw the lens but... I don't think he got a shot.

Oh!

Luckily though the Bowler could find racing lines
where the Jag couldn't.

And eventually he threw in the towel.

Ha! Looks like he's given up,
the big girl's blouse.

Oh (Beep!) No, he's not given up.

He had in fact swapped the XKR
for a Robinson R44,

the lightweight mosquito
of the helicopter world...

with a top of 135mph.

I'm gonna struggle but he will have a fight
through the turns.

So, if I keep this right through the twisties...

he won't be able to get alongside me
and get a shot.

Oh dear.

(Shutter clicking)

Aargh!

Don't get a shot, please!

Oh! Where are you? Where are you now, then?

There he is.

No!

Luckily our closing speed was 250mph.

(Shutter clicking)

Right, little Bowler, come on!

A big post-nuclear dash.

That's a lot of helicopter in my mirror.

Aha!

Try a bit of that, whirlybird boy!

The Bowler had vanquished its enemies
on Tarmac.

Come on! Ha ha ha ha!

Now we were back on familiar Bowler turf.

Or is it any more? We don't know.

So, what am I up against this time?

Bikes? Military?

As it turned out, it was both.

Ooh, blimey.

Stay close, let's stay with him,
stay with him.

Yeah, I reckon the bikes are just there
to distract me.

The photographer is in the Jackal.

That's the thing that killed Jeremy

when he raced against it in the Evo
and that is bad news.

Stay close.

The SAS use it and they're kind of fussy
about their company cars.

It'll do 90 on the flat.

The seat will protect the driver
from a mine blast.

Even the fuel tank can repair itself
if it's hit by a bullet.

All in all, a formidable platform
for the snooping snapper.

Come on! Let's see what you've got!

Oh, God! I'm off the road!

That's it, stay with him, stay with him.

Got to keep reminding myself,
this is a road car!

The unstoppable Jackal and the agile bikes
kept on the pressure,

hoping to break the road-going Bowler
on the tough terrain.

Those bikes are just making it impossible!

But the Bowler didn't crack.

It might be in a dinner suit
but this thing is still a Bowler.

Which meant yet more musical chairs
for the snapper.

Oh, my God!

Oh, you've got to be kidding!

He wasn't kidding though.

And unfortunately for me we were in
the hovercraft's natural environment -

a beach.

A massive six-mile long one.

This is looking very post-nuclear apocalypse.

Fulham's really gone downhill.

That, in fact, is an offshore racing hovercraft.

It's got a one-litre BMW bike engine.

Nought to 60 in about five seconds,
it'll do 70mph.

And I can't shake him.

There's only one biker left,
the other one must be in the sea.

(Shutter clicking)

All I can do is, if I weave about...

I'm going left!
No I'm not, I'm going right!

I'm going back! I'm going left!

There's no way can they possibly... They can.

They are.

Desperate to stay out of the pap's lens,
I tried another tactic.

Oh, it's a hovercraft. He's fine with water,
that's not going to be to my advantage, is it?

So I gave him a face full of salt
and made a dash for the finish line.

There it is! There's the post-apocalyptic finish
line with a post-apocalyptic chequered flag!

If I make it across there, I have done it!

Ha ha!

Take that!

Try selling those pictures!

Inevitably he did, but they weren't
what you would call his best work,

so if you are a post-apocalyptic
Premiership footballer,

maybe the road-legal Nemesis
is the car for you.

(Screaming)

(Air-raid siren)

(Screaming)

Now, to you, this might look like a scene from
Independence Day or Deep Impact.

Sorry.

Now, to you... To you, this might look like a
scene from Independence Day or Deep Impact.

Yes, or then again it might not,

because those are films we haven't had
a chance to catch yet.

What it is, though, is a frighteningly accurate
representation of the scenes you will see

as people flee cities after the nuclear attack.

Essentially complete log-jam
on every main artery.

Yeah. And here's the critical thing.

As you left your house in, let's face it,
a bit of a rush,

you can bet your bottom dollar that whilst
you'd have remembered essentials -

food, clothing, water -

you'll have forgotten
the most important thing.

Travel games to play in the car.

Absolutely. Do not worry, because Hammond
and I have devised some in-car games

that require no retail items whatsoever.

Yes, the first game we're going to demonstrate
is called dashboard spot the difference.

- Hooray!
- You might wanna take notes, it's a good one.

James, you can be the spotter on the first
round. It goes round by round, you swap roles.

So, you have ten seconds
to memorise the dash.

Every feature on it is an element of our game.

OK, just memorising,
memorising, memorising,

- (James) I'm fixed in mine.
- Right.

- Right, if it's fixed, if you'd like to look away...
- Looking away.

I shall now make a subtle adjustment
on the dashboard.

Erm... To make this more challenging,
I'm going to make two.

(James) OK.

You may now look.

- That temperature has been raised.
- Yes, it has!

- The seat heater is now on.
- No, you're imagining things.

- You're making stuff up.
- (Thudding)

It's brand-new!

I'm sorry, I can't have been looking...
What is it?

Oh, no! The vents!

Right, my turn. I'll look away.

OK, I'm going to set up...

- (Beep)
- One is allowed to listen for audible clues

- and I heard a recognisable electronic beep.
- OK, there are two changes.

OK.

OK. Er...

- Er, you put my seat heater on.
- Yes.

Erm...

And... you changed the level of the vents.

No, sir!

- Er... That.
- No!

- I don't know!
- I turned the screen off.

Oh, God, I didn't see that!

It's time to use up some of my last
barrel of petrol.

Now, there are two ways of doing this.

I could go for something very exciting,
but then it would be over quite quickly

or I could go for something economical which
would mean I could keep driving for longer

but that would be quite boring.

Or, I could do both by putting my gallon of
post-apocalypse petrol in this.

It's a Mini.

It's a proper Mini, it's a 1964 Mini Cooper.

1071 engine. It's marvellous.

(Revs engine)

Listen to that! Ho ho ho!

It's very light, it's very simple.
It doesn't have very much power,

it doesn't have very much grip

but it means that you feel
absolutely everything.

You feel it in your fingertips,
you can feel it in your buttocks.

Then you'll understand why this car, a car that
was apparently designed for the housewife,

became a rally and track racing champion.

Because it's brilliant!

We've sometimes said on Top Gear

that you're not a true petrol head
if you haven't owned an Alfa Romeo.

I'd like to modify that.
I'd like to say you're not a true petrol head

if you've never owned a Mini.

In a Mini, you enjoy your last bit of fuel
for longer

cos even if you drive it like a bit of a hoond
like I am now,

that last gallon of apocalypse petrol will last
for at least 35 miles, maybe 40.

Of course, there are times driving a Mini when
you wish the petrol would run out sooner.

The driving position is terrible,

it's noisy and the ride is very hard.

But in the right circumstances,
it is fantastic.

And right circumstances include an abandoned
shopping centre underground car park

in post-apocalyptic Britain.

Especially if you're not on your own.

That's just typical.
You get a whole car park to yourself

and then the undead turn up and spoil it.

(Screeching)

That's right - this is the place of choice
if you are a soulless, Mini-driving corpse...

and who can blame them?

This is where a Mini is at its best.

(Chuckles)

Zombies at six o'clock!

Oh, go away and be dead.

For Pete's sake!

It's a good job
underground shopping centre car parks

are empty in the post-apocalyptic world...

otherwise there wouldn't be a space
for zombies to do J-turns.

These zombies are like the feral youth
of the future.

Hanging around in car parks being a nuisance.

Go and get a job.

(Gentle classical music)

So there you are. If you find yourself
a bit bored after the nuclear blast

and you're looking for a way to burn
your last few drops of fuel,

I can guarantee there's no better way of
blowing it than in an original Mini Cooper.

Now, things really aren't as good
as they could be at the moment

but we have made plans to keep Top Gear going
in the event of a nuclear war.

At the moment, we are trying to do the news,
although it's proving rather difficult, isn't it?

Yeah, it is. I mean, Vauxhall - no new cars,
factory wiped out in the blast.

Yeah. Same story with Ford. No new cars
whatsoever, factory has completely disappeared.

VW - nothing from them. Factory obliterated
in a 50-megaton explosion.

Yeah. Oh, there is a new 911.

Oh, and it's grown a hideous sort of mutant
radioactive wing thing on the back, look

- That's a GT3.
- Oh, is it?

Anyway, we will keep trying with the news
but now we must turn our attention

to another motoring-related
post-apocalyptic issue, motorsport.

Sadly, this activity will not fare well
in a nuclear devastation scenario.

All the F1 team will be blown up
and the rally teams, and...

Well, everything, really.

Yes, in fact, scientists believe that
only two racing drivers will survive

and the question they are asking themselves is,
"How will we make an exciting race

"with a grid of just two?"

(Engines revving)

(Richard) Now to you, this may look like
a scene from the Will Smith's I Am Legend.

But it's not.

No, because that's not a film
with which we're familiar.

What this is is the world's
last surviving racetrack.

Abandoned, deserted.
A ghost track, if you will.

Ignore that. That won't be there.

No, neither will that aeroplane full of people
going on holiday, that's not there.

Nevertheless, this is the place where
we shall demonstrate our ingenious method

of making an exciting motorsport

when there's only two cars and two drivers
left in the world.

Here are those two remaining race cars,

and on the plus side, it means there is lots of
post-apocalyptic sponsorship for them to share.

Now, how to make
an exciting race with them.

Here's how our ingenious solution works.

I'll be driving my car...
except I'll be driving Hammond's car,

which Hammond is in, because he's driving that,
except he's driving his car, which I'm in,

except he's not, that's why it's interesting.

But you said you'd be driving your car.

- Yes, because I am.
- So I'm driving my car.

You're in my car and you're driving my car.
No, you're driving your car.

So no, I'm in my car.
The car I'm driving is... No, you're...

You're in my car.

No, here's how it works. I will be sitting
in the back of Hammond's car

and I'll be driving my car, which he's in,
by remote control

and because he's in my car, he's got a remote
control driving his car which I'm in,

driving my car, which he was in all along

It is utterly brilliant and we've decided to call
this new form of motorsport...

- Radioactivity. Snappy. Pithy.
- (James chuckles)

Memorable.

- Right, which car do I get in?
- I've no idea.

Right, just to be clear -
James would sit in my car

but race his car driving it by remote control,

whilst I would do the same from his car.

However, on the start line
we realised there was a problem.

Who's gonna start the race?

That's a good point, everybody's dead. Erm...

OK, I'll get out and wave the flag,
then I'll get back in. Hang on.

Are you ready?

And...

Radioactivity... Go!

- No, you... Funny!
- (Richard laughing)

(James on radio) It's not gonna work!

- It doesn't work, I can't see where it's going.
- Exactly, because you're in your car.

- I've got to go with it.
- Bring it back.

(Richard) I... Get in your car
and we'll do three-two-one on the radio.

Ooh. Right, he's put me into gear.

I shall... put my car into gear as well.

And taking the brakes off.
Three, two, one, go!

And they're off.

- He's cut me up.
- (Laughs)

(James) Quickly we realised this race
would require a high IQ.

So I'm in the lead but I'm not in the lead
because my car's behind.

If I keep James's car, which I'm in,
in the mirror of my car, which James is in,

he can see well enough to drive me
but I'll win by going faster

Here comes an overtaking manoeuvre
on myself, I think.

Oh, no!

Hammond responded with great finesse.

- (Tyres screech)
- (James) Aah!

Aah! Stop driving into me! You!

Ha ha ha ha!

If he swerves towards me,
I've got to avoid me with him.

After a mere three minutes,
we were approaching the first corner.

(James) Waaah! Ah!

Oh! Was that you?

(Richard) You crashed me into me,
which is you!

Yeah, but you didn't avoid you... or me.

A mere five minutes later we finally
reached the first corner...

Left! Or right, that's OK! Now left!

... where we realised it was a bit ambitious
to worry about the racing line.

(James laughing) I can't see!

No, I'm going towards the tyre wall
which will, I suspect, be quite interesting.

(James) As we went round the tyre wall
I was in the lead,

except I was in Hammond's car
so I wasn't in the lead...

Sorry, I'm not making much sense.
This is such a complete mind-bending...

Waah! Ha!

- What's he putting me over there for?
- (Richard giggling) Where are you going?

Right, Hammerhead is next.

As we bored down on Hammerhead, James
sped up his car without bothering to steer it.

Oh-ho! James! James!

Ah!

- (Tyres screeching)
- Wrong way, go right! Your car!

(Tyres screeching)

Perfectly round the Hammerhead from my car.

- Wuargh!
- Tyre wall!

(Laughing)

Several unskilful minutes later...

- James! Put me back on the track!
- I can't see!

... we finally exited Hammerhead.

Hang on, stop moving me or I can't see
where you... I am.

- Argh!
- We got it right. I'm in the lead!

(Richard) Oh-ho!

I can't see him at all!

I can't see... Ah-ha!

Wrong way, go right! Ah-ha!

Go right!
No, gently, you fool!

What the (Beep) is he doing?

Anxious to regain the lead,
Hammond then unleashed his car.

Stop! Stop!

What the (Beep) are you doing? Right!

(Richard) So far if we were honest it,
it hadn't been that smooth a lap.

But as we trundled down
the final straight together...

We can do this, we can finish a lap.

... we were finally driving as one.

Oohhh!

(Richard) Oh dear.

(James) Luckily our cars were still running...

so we were side by side as we powered in
to the tricky second-to-last corner.

(Engines grinding)

Oh, that sounds very unhealthy.

(Richard) I know he's going to make a sprint
for the line when we get there.

What I could do is cut him off by driving
my car... in front of his.

I've lost him!

I can't see! For God's sake!

- And they cross the line!
- Ha ha!

- You cheated!
- I didn't, you kept putting me in front of you,

so I put you in front of me,
who was me in front of you.

(James) When did I put you/me/I in front...

(Richard) Having proved Radioactive Racing
to be a success...

we then tried it out on another form
of motorsport - drag racing.

- James.
- Hello?

Can you rev my engine so I'll look mean at
the start of the drag race? And I'll rev yours.

(Revving)

At least drag races are generally quite close
and we've both got the same sort of car.

If I come second, I've come first.
Cos my car will have crossed the line first.

I can do that.

(Revving)

Yeah, I'm off to a good start!

Ooh, it's tricky!
What are you doing?!

Oh, God, that's difficult!

No, I'm getting ahead.

Heh-hey! I'm ahead! Ha!

Which means... I'm behind.

I think that's a victory. I think I've won.

I can't see my mirror now!
This is ridiculous!

Hammond!

I'm gonna win, which means I'll lose!

I've got no choice. It's do or die.

I'm gonna use my car to ram his car...
off the course.

Wuurgh!

- (Crash)
- Ha ha! That's done it! Ha ha!

No! Bad! Bad!

Across the line!

Yes! No, hang on a minute,
this is Hammond's car.

No!

(Screaming)

(Siren blaring)

(Air-raid siren)

(James) Right. Looking away...
(Richard) OK, looking away.

(Air-raid siren continues)

Right.

Ee...

Was that on 20?

I'm gonna go for
that was pointing downwards.

No. It's the iguana.

Oh!

- You see, you're good but sometimes...
- Oh, how could I have missed that?

For my final last barrel of petrol drive
I will be in a muscle car.

I could have chosen one of the big names -
a Mustang, a Charger or a Challenger.

But instead I've gone for the one considered
to be the grandfather of all muscle cars -

the Pontiac GTO.

There is actually an interesting bit of history
to the Pontiac GTO.

In the early 1960s, General Motors,
for some unknown reason,

decreed that none of their cars
from any of their divisions

could be involved in motor racing.

So some of the young hotheads from Pontiac,
including their chief designer, John DeLorean,

thought, "All right, if that's the way
it's gonna be,

"we'll make these cars for the street."

And so, the Pontiac GTO, the fore-father
of all muscle cars, was born.

This is the full-on, maximum,
away-from-the-lights, "Sorry, Officer" GTO.

It's a legend.

The GTO tag was stolen unashamedly
from Ferrari's iconic 250 GTO.

But whereas the Italians prided themselves
on racing technology,

this blue-collar version
preferred red-neck muscle.

(Revving)

This might not be the wisest choice

if we're talking about only having
one barrel of petrol left.

You see, the GTO
always came with a hefty engine.

You could have a 6.2, a 6.6,

and then there was this...

7.4 litre V8.

A 7.4 litre V8, that's actually quite funny.

(Laughs)

I mean, yes, they are a bit crap,
yes, they corner like carnival floats,

but listen to this.

(Engine hums)

Oh, my God! Ahhh!

We're really not talking brainy stuff
with this last barrel,

we're talking storing up memories,
sensations

and nothing assaults the senses

like a muscle car.

The Germans will be remembered
for the precision of their engineering.

The French for their quirky brilliance.

The Italians for passion.

The British for the nimble roadster.

But the Americans...

They'll be remembered for giving us a laugh.

And I don't mean that spitefully.

What I mean is they made cars like this that
basically say, "Look, calm down, nobody died.

"It's a bit of fun. Enjoy it."

Ha ha!

I mean, just look at me, in this.
It's fancy dress!

Look at that taco on the bonnet.
Why there?

It doesn't matter, that's part of it.
We had a sense of humour, that was important.

We were stupid - course we were,
we destroyed the planet!

But we had our good points as well.

We were fun, we were a laugh.

Ha ha ha ha!

Muscle cars may not have done much
to advance the world.

But trust me, you wouldn't want to live
in a world without them.

(Screaming)

(Sirens blaring)

(James) OK, your turn. Look away.

And... you can look.

There's one change.

- Pixie on the dashboard.
- Correct.

Actually not entirely correct, he's a leprechaun,
but I'll give it to you.

(James) It's time for me to drive
my final last barrel of petrol car,

and this being me, you are probably
expecting a Rolls or a Bentley.

Well, sorry to disappoint.

Comfort and leather trim are all very lovely,

but they are not the last sensations
I want to remember.

No, I want those sensations
to be in a supercar.

In fact, the most primeval supercar
of all time.

It is as simple
as a Bugatti Veyron is complex.

It's like a three-minute punk thrash
compared with an interminable concept album.

It is, in fact, the most elemental Ferrari
you'd find this side of a Formula 1 grid.

The F40 is also the essence of all that
famous Ferrari petulance and passion.

I mean, this car was launched in 1987,

supposedly to celebrate
the company's 40th birthday.

But in truth, it was an act of revenge,
perpetrated against Porsche

for trying to outdo Ferrari with the 959.

Now, the 959 could do 197mph

so when the F40 came out,
Ferrari made sure it could do 201.

Not 200, 201, and the 1 was very significant,
it was their way of saying,

"Porsche, get back in your box.
Know your place."

And when it was launched, this was
the fastest production car in the world.

Ferrari threw this car together
in just 12 months,

which is no time at all for car development,
but even so, it was a groundbreaker.

It was the first car in the world to have a body
made almost entirely of carbon fibre

and they'd only only started using that
in Formula 1 about three years earlier.

Throughout his life,

Enzo Ferrari always said that people
who bought his road cars were idiots.

He openly acknowledged that he fleeced them
just to feed his all-consuming racing habit.

And the F40 was the peak of this practice.

Back in 1987, Ferrari were charging
£200,000 for it.

He did say that they would
only ever make 400 of them.

That made 400 investors extremely happy.

And - I don't know what the Italian
for a porker pie is -

but that was a whopper,
because they made 1,315.

They just sort of forgot to stop.

And for that money, in town at least,
you got a terrible experience.

It's too wide, the suspension's too hard,
it clunks,

the engine's very noisy, it gets very hot,
the gearbox is stiff,

the throttle pedal is sticky.

Out on the open road, however...

Yes!

2.9- Litre V6
with two massive turbo-chargers.

Ha ha ha!

Those turbos would provide 478bhp,

and take you to 60mph in 3.7 seconds.

478 horsepower doesn't sound that much
by modern standards

and I don't suppose it is,

but this car is very light.

It's really just a tubular frame,
it's like a tent,

and then it's clad in carbon fibre body panels,
there's only 11 pieces

in the whole of the bodywork,

and as a result of that, it weighs 1,100kg,

only about the same as a modern Mini.

Bit of turbo lag. I know it's gonna kick
but here we go...

But all that lightness did come at a price.

Standard equipment? Let's have a look.

Er, there's none.

Really, nothing. There's no proper carpet, there's
no glove box, there's only basic instruments.

Wind-up windows,
piece of string for the door handle.

The only concession to comfort
is air-conditioning.

And of course, it's 1980s Italian
air-conditioning, so it doesn't work.

I think the F40 may have been the genesis
of that great supercar marketing ploy.

You take stuff off the car
and then you charge more for it.

My ration of fuel is burning up,

but this drive is enough to remind me
that the F40 is the best Ferrari ever.

It is so stripped out,

it is so much the essence of
Ferrari the manufacturer and Ferrari the man.

This is the Ferrari road car he would have
if he was with us today.

I think it's fantastic but...
I'm not gonna enjoy it for much longer.

God, that's getting low!

This is a pact with the devil.

I want the sensation - I'm getting it
but it comes at a cost,

the fuel's going very quickly.

I'm holding it in third for that bit
cos I want to blast out of here,

I've got the turbo on, oh yes, please!

Whoo-hoo!

That's it.

All over.

Do you know, before the bomb went off,
this car was worth over £300,000.

Now...

it's a piece of roadside litter.

Good, though.

No regrets.

That was the right choice.

(Flushing)

(Flushing)

Now, have you ever been to the cinema
and watched a film set in the future?

If you have, you'll notice that they all have
one thing in common.

Nobody's very friendly.

Name any future-set film you like -
Mad Max, Terminator, 28 Days Later,

Born Free, Waterworld -

everybody is absolutely horrible
to each other.

And scientists believe that
post-nuclear unpleasantness

will affect motoring as well.

Yeah. Imagine a world where car showrooms
are run by flesh-eating zombies,

where sheep grow really big eyes,

where children at bus stops clutch dolls
and stare at you.

That, according to scientists,
is motoring in a post-apocalyptic world.

Yes, it is. Even something as mundane
as the MOT

could be a hideous futuristic nightmare.

Do you mind?

At present, as I'm sure you know,

getting one of these MOT certificates
is really quite uneventful.

You take your car down to an MOT garage,
then a man in overalls pokes around it

whilst you suck your teeth
and hope that he doesn't notice

that it's two different cars welded together.

In the post-nuclear world, however,

it's going to be quite different.

Now, to you, this might look like
the Thunderdome from Mad Max 3.

But it's not cos we haven't seen that film.

What this is is the MOT test centre
of the future.

And it is the place where cars must fight
to the very death in order to survive.

Because scientists believe that in
the radioactive fallout, cars will mutate

and, very conveniently for us
at this point in our DVD,

sprout ridiculous weapons.

They will.

(James) This is the typical selection of cars
booked in for today's MOT.

They include a family Volvo
equipped with a massive flame-thrower...

... a black cab fitted fitted with
a massive swinging, spiky thing.

(People screaming)

... and a sedate and dignified hearse...

featuring a massive roof-mounted axe.

This is my car. It's a tough, go-anywhere
4.2- Litre Range Rover,

featuring this massive
front-mounted, many-pronged arm

for flipping other cars over.

(Growling)

And finally, my car, this innocent-looking
Vauxhall Corsa,

featuring this massive, spinny-blade thing.

(Whining)

So, there you have it.
All the cars attack each other

and the last car surviving at the end
gets the coveted MOT certificate.

Now, naturally, it is quite dangerous
for the owners to take part

in the actual MOT test.

They'll be killed. But there's good news here
because luckily scientists believe

that due to radioactive fallout,

the cars themselves will respond well
to being radio-controlled.

So we'll be over there
with the rest of the owners.

Within moments, the MOT began.

OK, so this is it. We're going.

- I want my MOT. Forwards.
- Forwards.

(Klaxon)

Also conveniently for our DVD,

in the MOT test of the future,

the yellow and black cars
are packed with explosives.

Detonate one and survive
and you get bonus MOT points.

Yeah!

My Range Rover charged at
another yellow and black bomb,

but the taxi sneaked in
and bagged a second kill.

- Ooh!
- This is chaos!

(James) Worse still, I was trapped
and under attack.

I'm stuck.

I'm being incinerated by the Volvo
with the dodgy gearbox.

Oh, mate, you're gonna fail at that rate,
you're not doing well.

(Richard) Mind you,
I was hardly having a relaxed day.

I've got a taxi on my tail.

Aargh!

No! Mind my Corsa!

I've set my spinner thing going.

Uh-oh.

(James) Struggling to dent my Range Rover,

the Volvo then turned it's flame-thrower
on the hearse.

- Ooh!
- I got out of the way.

And I too bravely legged-it, leaving the taxi
free to start thrashing the hearse.

Ooh!

(James) The hearse fled straight into
the path of my Range Rover.

I think I've got him.

The MOT test continued to rage on.

(James) Ooh!

Take that, you... you thingy!

As the vicious black cab
claimed yet more bonus points...

I decided to go in for the kill.

Ha ha ha! That'll finish him off!

To make sure, the Volvo dived in
with a quick blast of fire...

and I responded by turning on the Volvo.

Here we go. I'm gonna take him out.

Ha ha!

Take that!

Rather cleverly, I had let James get on
with the killing,

while my Corsa ran around unharmed.

And now only the two of us were left.

Ha ha! I would still pass an MOT easy.

Right. I'm having that, definitely.

Ha ha ha!

(Richard) Ah!

- That's not...
- (James laughs)

- That's a fail.
- That's definitely a fail.

(James) Which means the coveted
post-nuclear MOT certificate

goes to the Solihull Range Rover.

Yes! Thank you!

(Screaming)

(Siren blaring)

James and I shall now introduce you
to another of our travel games

to keep you entertained during the long months
of the nuclear winter.

- James, what have we got?
- Thank you, Richard.

Our new game involves a convertible car,

such as this conveniently abandoned
Mini we have here.

First, you wrench off the aerial,

and then the other person has to perform a
series of pre-ordained button-pressing tasks

with the opposite end of the aerial
against the clock.

It's known as Longest Finger In The World.
Richard, if you'd like to take that.

I shall be the presser,
you shall be the taskmaster.

I would like you to select audio, change to FM,
and retune to Radio 4...

- That's ironic, isn't it?
- Yes, it is.

- Task involving the radio and...
- Yes, sorry about that.

- Right.
- Starting... now!

- Right, I'm going for the audio button.
- Going for the audio button.

You can see now why the game gets its name,
Longest Finger In The World.

(James) Extremely difficult.
The buttons are slightly rounded...

- One hand only, please.
- (Richard) Struggling for purchase here.

- No, he's failed.
- No, I haven't yet.

- Oh, please!
- Relax.

There you go! Audio is selected.

- Er...
- Select FM.

This is gonna be a fail. Can we use the other
end of the longest finger in the world?

No!

I've deliberately chosen an aerial
from another car with a roundy end.

- How long is a nuclear winter?
- Long.

- With you.
- You've only had 45 seconds of it so far.

Er, one hand.

I... I'm failing.

OK, my task.

O, James May, fellow player
and fellow nuclear holocaust survivor,

your task as the bearer of the longest finger
in the world is...

operate the central locking and put the roof up.

- Ooh!
- Which will require some manoeuvring.

Yes. Central locking is there.

It is.

(Man shrieking)

- Door's locked.
- There's no need for that.

Oh, this is going to be very difficult.

(Richard) Yeah, it will be...

- (Siren blaring)
- Oh yeah!

(Both laughing)

(Whirring)

- Oh! Faultless!
- Ow!

He's chopped his arm off
and there's no hospitals!

- That's not possible.
- Well, open the door, you muppet!

I locked it, that was the first task.

We've locked ourselves out of a stolen car!

That's the end of Longest Finger In The World.

(James) Back now to this fascinating nerdy
conundrum of the last barrel of petrol on earth.

Now, as you've seen, we've already chosen
two of our favourite cars each

in which we can have our last ever drive
with our last ever barrel

of post-apocalyptic petrol.

But it's not quite over yet
because we did keep a little bit back

for a final blast around the Top Gear test track.

Yeah. Thing is, it really is just a very little bit.
Yeah, very.

So we've chosen two cars that'll eke it out.

(Richard) Well, a bit.

What we have here is the Porsche 911 GT3;

possibly the most perfect version
of the 911.

And alongside it,
the Aston Martin Vantage V12.

The one car that can give it a run
for its money.

I think you probably all know how much
Richard Hammond loves a 911.

So it's only reasonable that we'd send
Richard Hammond away

with happy memories of the GT3.

Something to cheer him in his old age,

when he's sitting in his radioactive armchair.

But the truth is, I'm more than happy
to take the wheel of the Vantage.

It's an Aston.

Everybody loves an Aston.
They just make the world a happier place.

They have more charisma than normal cars.

And if you are going to have
a final shoot-out on this track,

the Vantage is the perfect sparring partner
for the 911.

The weird thing is,
these cars are chalk and cheese.

But at the same time, they're peas in a pod.

They're different sides of the same coin,
they're two world superpowers but with...

- Hammond?
- Yes?

Can you just back off on the analogies? I don't
think we've got the petrol for all that guff.

Good point.

What I'm trying to say is, both of these cars
are probably the best sports cars can be

but they're coming at that
from completely different directions.

Yeah, one's German and one's British, so
we can make gags about the Battle of Britain.

Yeah, thank you Stan Boardman.

(Richard) Let me explain my point.

Now, on paper, we are very different.

I have a 3.8- Litre flat six
mounted all the way back here.

Yeah, I have a massive 6-litre V12
mounted up here.

I have 435 brake horsepower.

Ah, you see, I have 510 - but the Aston is
almost 300kg heavier than the Porsche.

- Your nought to 60?
- 4.2 seconds. Yours?

- 4.1.
- Ooh!

Top speed, 194.

190.

Yeah, you see, that's our point.
We reckon in a straight line on, say, a runway,

these two would be very close.

Yeah, and to find out how close,
we're going to have, of course, a drag race.

But because this will be
the last ever drag race in history,

using the last barrel of petrol in history,

we've decided to forgo the usual limp-wristed
quarter of a mile thing

and we're going to three-quarters of a mile
and at the end we shall compare top speeds.

How's that?

It's British pluck versus German ingenuity.

This is it. Waiting for the hideous
flesh-eating zombie to give us the go.

Right. Cowslip Control Rabbit Squadron airborne.
I can see Jerry.

(Tyres squeal)

Ya-ha! This is it! The last drag race!

Crikey, he's off!

He's miles off!

Look at this thing go!

100mph just seconds after I left.

110... here comes 120!

140!

150!

Still getting away.
He's getting away like hell!

Absolutely phenomenal!

And... across the line!

Ha ha ha ha!

The 911 won!

Mort, feel those! Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo!

- Ooh, yeah.
- Yeah, yeah.

- Ha ha! Clearly!
- Yes, all right!

The world is in tatters and you're still being
smug about winning a drag race.

Well, you could do one of things -
you could win or lose...

and I did the winning thing.

Did you see, though, how my carbon ceramic
brakes slowed me down at the end?

Did you see how my carbon ceramic brakes
brought me to a halt safely?

Yeah. And they're standard, are they,
like on the Aston?

No, they're extra.
They cost an extra 5,800 quid,

which takes the price the price of this car
to just short of 94 grand.

Bargain.

- How much?
- 135.

So time's going to be tight, post-apocalypse?

I don't... No, because...

Just throw a radioactive brick through
the dealer's window and help yourself.

- Shall we do some more driving?
- Yes.

(Richard) With the needles dipping rapidly,

we decided to crack-on with the bit
we've always enjoyed most -

the car-to-car face-off.

My CO2 emissions are lower than yours.
I win that as well.

Yeah, that's very relevant in a world
of nuclear ash and flesh-eating zombies.

Flesh-eating zombies
don't care about the environment.

- Yeah, that's a good point. Shall we go?
- Go!

I've got the Aston in Sport mode.

I know it's a bit extravagant
but listen to what it does to the exhaust.

(Revving)

What a fantastic noise!

This is marvellous! It's got so much power
and a great gush of torque,

it's like a big swelling balloon
under the bonnet.

(Chuckles)

There's so much thought
goes into one of these.

This one now has dynamic engine mounts,

so that they can stiffen up
under hard cornering.

That's fiddly.

You remember the first version of this, the V8
Vantage? On this one, they've made it stiffer,

they've made it a bit lower,
they've lightened it slightly.

All in the interests of making up
for the weight of that engine.

There you go!

The GT3 is Darwin's evolution -

decades of German engineers tinkering
has brought us to this car.

The wheels are now held on by centre-locking
nuts rather that lods round the edge.

Putting one nut in the middle gets rid of
a tiny bit of flex you get

with normal wheel nuts under hard braking,
when it moves fractionally on the hub.

That's a lot of thought goes into that.

It's the Hawker Hurricane Mark II versus
the Messerschmitt ME-109 Emil.

Grip! A lot of grip!

Oh, I've messed that up slightly.

Ha ha ha ha!

Isn't it fantastic? For its whole existence,
Aston Martin has been in difficulties

and yet here it is, at the end of the world...

What a way to go!

(Richard) As the fuel gauge needles dropped,

we stopped trying to find out
which one was best,

because frankly none of that
mattered any more.

Instead, we played,

and gave these two
the most exciting send-off we could.

But inevitably...

Ha ha! Oh, hang on!

Ohh... (Sighs)

(James) Oh...

That's it.

It's over.

So, here we are. And we hope you've found
this scientifically-backed-up DVD

a useful and enjoyable survival guide
to motoring in a post-apocalyptic world,

and not in any way similar to any
post-apocalyptic movies

you may have seen at the cinema.

No, indeed. And if you happen to be
one of those tramp types

and you walk around town centres
with bogeys hanging out of your nose,

holding up a placard saying "The End Is Nigh",

then do rest assured that this DVD
will be available at most petrol stations,

and at an agreeably discounted price,

shortly after Christmas.

- Goodbye.
- Drive safe.