Jeremy Clarkson tries to combine work with a family holiday.
Hang on a minute. I wanted to write this morning about Australia’s immigration policy. But sadly, each time I look out of the window, I’m consumed by the view. This means that every time I try to send an e-mail to the Top Gear edit suite about cuts I need for next week’s film, it always begins: “The seagull’s lonesome cry echoed eerily from the volcanic jaggedry . . . ” and no one in Soho has the first clue what’s got into me.