Description:

In And Another Thing... the outspoken and outrageous presenter Jeremy Clarkson, shares his opinions on just about everything.

Jeremy Clarkson finds the world such a perplexing place that he wrote a bestselling book about it. Yet, despite the appearance of The World According to Clarkson, things - amazingly - haven't improved. Not being someone to give up easily, however, he's decided to have another go.

In And Another Thing... the king of the exasperated quip discovers that:

• Bombing North Carolina is bad for Yorkshire
• We can look forward to exploding at the age of 62
• Russians look bad in Speedos. But not as bad as we do
• Wasps are the highest form of life

Thigh-slappingly funny and in your face, Jeremy Clarkson bursts the pointless little bubbles of the idiots while celebrating the special, the unique and the sheer bloody brilliant...

And Another Thing... is a hilarious collection of Jeremy's Sunday Times columns and the second in hisThe World According to Clarkson series which also includes The World According to Clarkson, For Crying Out Loud! and How Hard Can It Be?

Praise for Jeremy Clarkson:

'Brilliant . . . laugh-out-loud' Daily Telegraph
'Outrageously funny . . . will have you in stitches' Time Out

Number-one bestseller Jeremy Clarkson writes on cars, current affairs and anything else that annoys him in his sharp and funny collections. Born To Be Riled, Clarkson On Cars, Don't Stop Me Now, Driven To Distraction, Round the Bend, Motorworld and I Know You Got Soul are also available as Penguin paperbacks; the Penguin App iClarkson: The Book of Cars can be downloaded on the App Store.

Jeremy Clarkson because his writing career on the Rotherham Advertiser. Since then he has written for the Sun and the Sunday Times. Today he is the tallest person working in British television, and is the presenter of the hugely popular Top Gear.

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About the Author

Jeremy Clarkson is the presenter of Top Gear. He writes for The Sun, The Sunday Times, and Top Gear Magazine.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Sorry, Hans, brassy Brits rule the beaches now

When package holidays began, all of a sudden we could

experience life at close quarters with people from other

nations. We thought the Germans were the most ridiculous

people on the beach.

As Monty Python pointed out years ago, they pinched

the sun beds and barged into the queues and frightened

the children. And if you weren’t at the buffet spot-on

seven, Fritz had wolfed all the sausages.

But with the advent of the Boeing  747 came the longhaul

holiday and we realised that the Germans were

country mice compared with the Americans. No shorts

were too large, no thong was too small.

What’s more, Hank does not like to sit on the beach

and read a book. He likes to shout and play volleyball.

When the Yanks are around, it’s like being on holiday in

a primary school playground.

For years the Americans were in a class of their own,

but then the Berlin Wall fell down and, as a result, from

the Indian Ocean through the Middle East and the Mediterranean

to the Caribbean, Boris and Katya were making

all the running.

In many ways the Russians are like the Americans.

They’re either far too fat or far too beautiful. There’s no

middle ground. And again, like Uncle Sam, no part of

the body is immune from man-made enhancement. The

Americans go for surf-white teeth; the Russians for alarming

special forces tattoos. And neither seems to see anything

wrong with breast enlargement. I saw one Russian

woman on the beach in Barbados the other day who had

the body of a walnut and a chest that put Antigua in the

shade.

However, where the Russians move into an easy lead

is beach attire. For the men it’s the traditional Speedo,

while the women seem to get their fashion pointers from

internet porn sites. I haven’t yet seen anyone strutting

down the beach in stockings and suspenders but it’s only

a matter of time.

Today, though, a new contender has come along and

blown the old favourites into the seaweed. The title of

Most Stupid People on the Beach has gone in  2004 . . .

to Britain.

We were designed to make Spitfires and Beagles. We’re

supposed to be in a shed, in gloves, inventing stuff. We

therefore do not look good on a beach. We’re piggy

white and if you expose us to the sun, we turn into

Battenburg cake.

We’re designed for bracing walks along the front in

Scarborough and wet camping holidays in Scotland. But

our newly discovered wealth means we can now go to

the tropics. Because it’s new money, we really have no

idea what to do with it.