Jeremy Clarkson is planning for the inevitable – his own death – and it’s all thanks to a looming tax reform threatening British farmers. The change to Agricultural Property Relief has sparked a darkly humorous, surprisingly detailed contemplation of his final arrangements.
Clarkson, known for never mincing words, isn’t simply accepting the new rules. He’s openly strategizing to delay his demise, declaring he’ll “hang on until the Labourites have gone,” a testament to his strong feelings about the political landscape.
His post-mortem plans are anything but conventional. James May is slated to receive a gift guaranteed to irritate, perhaps a cow, while Richard Hammond will inherit “all my trousers.” It’s a final, playful jab at his formerGrand Tourco-hosts.
Even his son, Finlo, is part of the elaborate scheme, promised his father’s gold watch – with a peculiar condition: five years of keeping it… well, you can imagine. Clarkson’s reasoning is delightfully blunt and uniquely his own.
Organ donation and cremation are firmly off the table. He’s hedging his bets on the afterlife, fearing the embarrassment of arriving in heaven in an urn or discovering his eyeballs are missing. A cautious approach, even in the face of mortality.
The funeral itself demands a specific soundtrack: the full 23-minute epic “Supper’s Ready” by Genesis. It’s a bold musical request, a final expression of his eccentric tastes and a commitment to leaving a lasting impression.
And the location? The Yukon, a remote territory in western Canada. Why? Purely for the inconvenience. Clarkson’s desire for a burial that’s as difficult as possible speaks volumes about his rebellious spirit.
But the tax reform casts a shadow over even these carefully laid plans. Should he fall ill and become incapacitated, the timing of life support being withdrawn becomes a critical, financially-driven decision for his family.
He envisions a stark choice: immediate tax implications if the plug is pulled now, or a reprieve if they wait for a change in government. The thought has even prompted him to consider a formal directive in his will regarding his life support machine.
This isn’t just about taxes, though. It’s a continuation of Clarkson’s well-documented disdain for the current political climate, a sentiment so strong he’s already banned all but one Labour MP from his pub, The Farmer’s Dog.
Prime Minister Keir Starmer is on the banned list, alongside James May and, surprisingly, anyone with a food intolerance. Clarkson views the latter as a potential source of frivolous lawsuits and endless complaints.
He’s seriously contemplating a complete ban on those with dietary restrictions, deeming them “just so annoying” and a potential financial liability. It’s a testament to his no-nonsense approach and willingness to prioritize peace and quiet, even at the expense of business.
