Clarkson and Monbiot are the same: they are just being true to themselves
‘See that pot plant?’ said Jeremy Clarkson. ‘I could get a column out of that.’ We were at a supper party in Hay and indulging in that parlour game often played by newspaper columnists whereby we try to outdo each other when it comes to the ingenuity with which we can transform any subject, no matter how threadbare, into a column. At the time, I couldn’t think of anything less promising than a pot plant so I kept quiet, but now I can: a column about another columnist claiming he can get a column out of a pot plant. As a confirmed petrolhead who prides himself on being politically incorrect, I was delighted to be seated next to Clarkson and the fact that we were surrounded by lefties was the icing on the cake. Within seconds of sitting down he had provoked a firestorm of protest by claiming there are ‘two sides’ to the climate change debate and that anyone who believes otherwise has simply not studied all the scientific evidence. He was extremely impressive, able to unleash a battery of statistics to quash anyone who challenged him. ‘You should write a book on the subject,’ I said.
‘I already have,’ he replied.
The debate moved on to the big talking point of this year’s Hay Festival, namely, whether the Guardian columnist George Monbiot was justified in his attempt to carry out a citizen’s arrest of John Bolton, the former US ambassador to the UN who Monbiot believes is guilty of war crimes. This was last Tuesday, the day before Bolton was due to arrive in Hay to promote his memoirs, and Monbiot’s plan was to arrest him in at the podium. Both Clarkson and I took the view that Hay should be the sort of place where people of radically opposing political views could talk freely to one another without the risk of being set upon by a self-promoting columnist. Then again, we didn’t have a leg to stand on since we were, at that very moment, two self-promoting columnists setting upon our political opponents.
‘Least he’ll get a column out of it,’ Clarkson said — and indeed he did.
My opening gambit to Clarkson was to ask him which of the cars in the driveway was his. ‘The grey Volvo,’ he said — and then proceeded to tell me how much pleasure he gets from relaying this crushing disappointment to his legion of fans.
‘Quite often I’ll be standing in a pub car park and someone will come up and say, “So which one of these beasts is yours?” You should see the look on their faces when I say, “The grey Volvo”.’ In truth, no fan of Clarkson’s would be disappointed to meet him. There is simply no distinction between the public and the private man: he is exactly like he is on the telly. He up a constant stream of anecdotes, not ng his pitch or delivery whether he was ssing one person or the whole room. In terms of sheer force of personality, the volume was constantly cranked up to 11.
Meeting Clarkson confirmed my view that the most successful celebrities have not reinvented themselves to satisfy some imagined public demand, but are simply being true to themselves. What distinguishes them from ordinary people is that they are more fully realised; they have buffed and polished their personalities until they sparkle in almost any situation. They have become famous almost by default because they embody traits that huge numbers of people possess in a much milder form. Clarkson reminded me of Walter Bagehot’s definition of what a good MP should be: an ordinary man of extraordinary abilities. I suspect the same is true of Monbiot, who, while not quite a national figure, is regarded as a folk hero by the sort of people who attend Hay. In fairness to him, I don’t think his attempt to arrest John Bolton was a cynical device to attract attention. On the contrary, he believes so passionately in the anti-war cause that he felt he could not act otherwise. Like Clarkson, Monbiot possesses an array of widely held characteristics, but these characteristics are more fully expressed in him than in most people.
He is not merely a hair-shirt environmentalist, he is the most puritanical leftie you are ever likely to meet. How marvellous it would be if these two political antagonists locked horns in a public debate. If the producer of Question Time is reading this, it is time to get your skates on.
Toby Young is associate editor of The Spectator.
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