Free Don't Stop Me Now by Jeremy Clarkson

engine sits at the back and gives huge traction in a corner; but, unlike any 911 I’ve ever driven, there is no punch-in-the-face punchline if you overcook it.
    In terms of grip and handling, I don’t mind sticking my neck out here and saying that I’ve never, ever driven anything that gets even close to it. In terms of comedy, it’s
Fawlty Towers
– honed to perfection.
    Bring the new M3 CSL to the party if you like. Bring a 911 Turbo. Bring a 360 Ferrari. Bring anything you want and so long as it costs less than
£
150,000, I guarantee the GT3 will nuke it.
    In a little race I staged with an immensely fast and wonderfully satisfying Aston Martin DB7 GT, the Porsche was a full 10 per cent faster round the lap. That’s10 per cent faster, as well as being 40 per cent cheaper and probably 98 per cent more reliable, too.
    Yes, admittedly the GT3 is stiff and a bit jarring over the speed bumps, but it’s (just) on the right side of bearable. Think of it as Stephen Fry: probably a little bit difficult to live with from time to time, but you’d put up with the hard edges for those moments when one bon mot tears your sides literally in half.
    The GT3 is not the first 911 I’ve respected. And, if truth be told, it’s not the first 911 I’ve liked. But, although it’s only the eighth most entertaining car from 2003, it is also the first Porsche 911 that I’ve thought long and hard about buying.
    Sunday 23 November 2003

BMW 530d SE
    We read much these days about the benefits of modern diesel engines.
    We hear about the new-found quietness, the relaxed gait on the motorway and, of course, the parsimonious appetite for fuel.
    It all sounds jolly lovely, but when the school has just rung to say your daughter has fallen over and should really go to hospital, you don’t want a relaxed cruise and, frankly, you don’t give much of a stuff about fuel economy either.
    It actually happened this week. A nurse at the school rang to say my nine-year-old had had a ‘little’ accident. Now in America that would mean she’d had a ‘little’ accident but here, in understatement central, it could be anything from a damaged hairstyle to total decapitation.
    What I wanted for the mercy dash was a V8 the size of an office block. But, when news of my daughter’s ‘little’ accident came through, I ran out of the house to be presented, and there’s no other way of putting this, with a f∗∗∗∗∗∗ diesel.
    Much praise has been heaped on BMW’s 3-litre oil-burner. It’s been described as refined and quiet and unusually powerful. Some say it’s actually better than BMW’s petrol engines.
    Certainly I have no doubt that as paraffin stoves go it’s excellent, but can we be clear on something. Comparing it to anything fuelled with petrol is as stupid as comparing a typewriter to your computer. Yes, it’s more environmentally friendly. Yes, it’s cheaper to run. But you try downloading Gary Jules’s ‘Mad World’ on to a Remington Atlantic.
    They say that on a motorway it is not possible to say which fuel is being used. But that’s codswallop. It’s like saying you can’t tell whether you’re listening to a cassette or a CD.
    Or whether you’re eating fresh or frozen fish. You just know…
    And puh-lease can we stop trying to pretend that the superior torque offered by a diesel engine in any way compensates for the lack of brake horsepower.
    When you accelerate in a modern diesel there’s a satisfying surge, for sure, but it’s over in a moment. And there’s no power to carry the momentum. Time and time again I put my foot down in that Beemer, pulled out to overtake the Rover, and then when I was on the wrong side of the road simply ran out of oomph.
    A petrol engine will spin happily, in some cases to 8,000 or 9,000 revs per minute. The BMW diesel is revvier than most, but it’s all out of ideas at just 5,000.
    Of course, even when you drive like you’re on fire, it will refuse to do less than 40 mpg and that