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As I'm sure regular readers will know, Richard Hammond and I once invented a game called Airport Shopping Dare.

In case you're not familiar with it, this is how it works: Richard Hammond (for example) will be looking at sunglasses in Heathrow Terminal Four. I wait until he tries on a really idiotic pair that make him look like a school matron on holiday, and then say something like, "Hmm, yes, those somehow suit the shape of your face" in such a compassionate and caring way that he buys them.

The instant the transaction is completed, I am free to say, "Hammond, those sunglasses make you look like a cock." An hour later, he wreaks revenge by convincing me that I look cool in a really shiny leather coat. So I buy it and then can't understand why he keeps whistling the Minder theme tune at me.

It's a great game, but it can get out of hand. Last year, the rules were relaxed to include the car showroom and a new player, Jeremy Clarkson. It didn't take much to convince him that he wanted, and looked good in, a Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder. He didn't, and didn't really, so now he's sold it and no longer trusts me.

And so we arrive at a problem. Big C has now decided that what his life lacks is a Mercedes SL65, and for once I agree with him. This, in case you don't know, is the twin-turbo V12 AMG-prepared version of the iconic German roadster, and is ludicrously overpowered, ludicrously overpriced, and possibly a teeny weeny bit vulgar. It's very 'him', rather like Hammond's boots, which I think came from Gatwick.

Other motoring journalists are fond of pointing out that the lesser 55 version is a much wiser buy. It has the same top speed, is only 0.4 of a second slower to 60, looks almost exactly the same, is better to drive and costs over £50,000 less. It's often the way, isn't it? There are any number of cars of which it might reasonably be said that the best model sits just below the top of the range, and it's as true of the Fiat Panda as it is of the Pagani Zonda.

But while that's all very well in the normal world, in the very public world of Being Jeremy Clarkson, it just doesn't wash. Here is a man who uses the word 'power' in the way the rest of us use 'the', and who has forged an ironic niche for himself in obscuring his own on-screen presence with his own tyre smoke.