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Chapter 33

Loose Cannon

Policemen develop a dark sense of humour in the line of duty. Hardly surprising given the suffocating volume of guidelines and targets they swim through on a daily basis wearing high-vis armbands.

When Avon & Somerset Constabulary arrested a notorious drug dealer, his Mitsubishi Evo 7 was seized and sentenced to death for being purchased with the profits of crime. Rather than crush it, they approachedTop Gear for a more public execution. Happy to oblige.

We pitched up at Bovington Camp to film a final confrontation between the Evo and the British Armed Forces. The vast training area encompassed every terrain from tarmac to gravel, jumps, woods and water. The idea was for Jeremy to set off with the Army in hot pursuit – with no quarter asked for, or given.

In the Top Gear corner: a road car backed by our hairy-arsed technology team. In the Army corner: the Mastiff armoured vehicle, Trojan tank, Panther advanced command vehicle and Jackal hunter killer, backed by the might of British Aerospace, Supacat and the MoD.

The military were equipped with .762 and .50cal heavy machineguns capable of putting 600 rounds the size of golf balls clean through an engine block, and several more beside it. Jezza was armed with a pack of Marlboro Lights.

I took our gangster wheels for a warm-up along a closed lane to record some noise from the exhaust. The previous owner had invested nearly £100k souping it up and we wound the turbo boost to its maximum output: a whopping 550 horsepower. It had masses of torque and all four wheels leapt from the asphalt with the engine banging off the rev limiter like a rally car. It also stank of petrol.

I checked the Evo back into NASA for Steve Howard to work his magic. We popped the hood; fuel was pouring across the hot engine from the inlet rails. It was ready to burst into flames and we hadn’t even filmed it.

Steve even ditched his fag. ‘Andy, better get over here, mate.’

A blur of high-vis appeared as Andy Harris covered the time bomb with fireproof blankets and began pointing his fire extinguisher nozzle with a glint in his eye.

Steve stepped back to admire the view. ‘Watch out, fellas – looks like Harris might finally get to shoot his load.’

Once the fuel had evaporated, Steve fixed the hatchet job as best he could, but I had my doubts the Evo would survive until lunch.

Filming a chase like this for a movie might take weeks. We had two days.

The terrain was suitable for tanks and the hardiest 4x4 machinery. The Evo had minimal ground clearance, so we jacked up the suspension and shielded the underside of the engine with sheet steel to protect its vital organs. Standard road tyres would have spun hopelessly around the muddy ranges, so we upgraded with rally spec gravel jobs with knobbly edges.

Managing so many assets over multiple locations, communicating with the Army brass and creatively directing was murdering Phil’s schedule. The boy was stressed, biting his nails back to the knuckle, and if that wasn’t enough his phone kept ringing with Jeremy’s last-minute changes to the script.

I’d already scouted the area with Phil. The upper plateau was strewn with lanes bordered by thick wooden posts, and a broad sweep of pale yellow dust leading to four rocky chutes dropped almost vertically to a sandy basin littered with trees, berms and jumps. There was also a mine-field, several tracked forests and a live firing range for the grand finale. I hooked up with the military to choreograph some moves.

Dressed from top to toe in tan desert fatigues, full body armour and helmets, the lads looked cosy under the baking summer sun. I was sitting in a motorised Molotov cocktail, but felt substantially more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt.

To keep it simple, the Jackal’s OC would lead the other three vehicles.

‘So, Jackal,’ I said, ‘there’s a pile of rocks ahead by the fence line, over.’

‘Seen.’

‘I’ll handbrake-turn right behind them, come back in this direction and skim past you. You all follow, over.’

‘Roger,