The Grand Detour: Who the Bloody Hell Are These Three?

So, The Grand Tour has announced three new presenters. That’s right. Not one. Not two. But three. Because if there’s one thing Amazon’s learned from the last decade, it’s that nothing screams originality like copying the exact same format again and again until the only people still watching are your dad and that bloke who owns a Nissan Juke.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Who are they?” And the answer is: precisely. One’s a YouTuber who speaks entirely in metaphors and slow-motion B-roll. Another’s his mate, who mostly nods a lot and occasionally says something clever about tyres. And then there’s a third one – a lad who got famous filming trains and looking like he’s just discovered joy for the first time. They’re like the ingredients of a trifle someone made after a few too many wines – sweet, confused, and definitely not what you ordered.

Let’s not be too harsh though. It’s not their fault. They’ve just been handed the keys to a crumbling amusement park that used to be Disneyland. And by Disneyland, I mean Clarkson, Hammond and May – a trio so mismatched, so chaotic, so utterly incompetent at reviewing actual cars, that they somehow made not driving the cars the whole point of the show.

Because here’s the uncomfortable truth: The Grand Tour was never really about the cars. Or the races. Or the challenges. It was about watching three middle-aged men slowly descend into madness in the Mojave Desert because someone brought a Jaguar XJS to a dune buggy fight.

But after a few years of that, even they seemed tired of the whole thing. The chemistry, once electric, began to feel more like three uncles awkwardly sharing a sofa after one of them made a joke about Brexit at Christmas dinner. And honestly, the only “grand” thing about the last few specials was the length. I’ve seen shorter Wagner operas.

So now we’re back at square one. New presenters. New start. But can it work?

Maybe. If they’re allowed to be themselves. If the production team stops trying to Frankenstein together another Clarkson. If one of them is accidentally set on fire during a road test in Albania. Then yes, it might just work.

But let’s be real. Replacing the original trio is like trying to replace the Queen with three blokes from TikTok and expecting the nation to weep. It’s not going to happen. Clarkson, Hammond and May weren’t perfect. But they were theirs. Their chaos was authentic. Their friendship – even when shouting at each other about diesel – was real. And we watched because we felt like the fourth mate along for the ride. Albeit one strapped to the roof.

So will the new show be any good?

Well, I’ll give it a chance. But if Episode 1 involves a Nissan Leaf, a smoothie challenge and someone called “Jazzy J”, I’m out.