Dear Top Gear producers,
I really, truly think your show is awesome. The cars, the hosts, the laughter, the craziness, all makes for perfect telly watching. You're just missing one thing.
A Yank. A lady Yank. In particular... me.
OK. Here's the deal. I would laugh at all of Jeremy Clarkson's bad, inappropriate jokes. I would openly ridicule James May and his incredible slowness. And I would hug Richard Hammond. Every five minutes. And help each of them prank the other. Relentlessly.
In addition, I cannot fake a British accent, but I know a few British slang terms. And since I will most likely use them incorrectly, your home viewers will have a great time ridiculing the stupid Yank tart and ratings will climb! Plonker! Sod off! Bloody Hell!
Plus? My retired-cop father took great pride in teaching me defensive driving, a.k.a. "Run the stupid f*ckers off the road!" On snowy days, he would drive me to school via the back roads just so he could rip some doughnuts on the slick, icy roads. Am I as skilled as he? No. Am I scared of speed and spinning out? No. Could I be the Grasshopper to The Stig's Sensei? Oh, hell yeah.
And the best part? I'm a sucker for peer pressure. Meaning, if Jeremy or James or Richard start pouting and whining "Oh, come on Heather. The Stig says if you don't do this you're a smeghead. So, get on, will ya?" Meaning, if you apply enough guilt, and then hand me the keys to a McLaren F1 and tell me to race it through the streets of London with Scotland Yard on my tail, all while the cameras are rolling, doing all this because I'm trying to beat Jeremy, in his Bugatti Veyron, to Buckingham Palace, and the first one there gets to swipe the hat off a Queen's Guard and promptly get arrested, I'll probably say, "OK. Why not?"
In conclusion, I would like to present my introduction onto the show. I can hear Jeremy saying it now...
Some say she invented Princess Leia's cinnamon buns and that if you were to introduce her to George Lucas, she'd hump his leg and name the baby Han. All we know is... she's called the Coal Miner's Granddaughter!
And the applause, if not thunderous, would be polite.
I eagerly await your answer.
a.k.a. The Fourth Top Gear Presenter
a.a.k.a. The Stigette