Although James IS a May and sports shaggy locks, he is NOT of the Brian variety, does NOT strum a guitar for the rock band Queen and is NOT married to Anita Dobson.
However, he DOES have an impressive wardrobe of Tweed, which carries zero cool-factor in the world of fast cars, but he’s a simple creature of habit.
His love of automobiles was ignited at the age of three, when his father gave him a matchbox Aston Martin DB4, and he’s been a sucker for motors with a bit of retro ever since. Velour upholstery gets him purring like his pet cat, Fusker, and his trusty Fiat Panda will always win greater favour than his Porsche 911.
Although a tad more refined than his ‘Top Gear ‘counterparts (he cites Chopin as a musical favourite and plays both the piano and the flute) James most definitely shares their love of laddish humour.
In his formative professional years, as a writer for ‘Autocar’ magazine, he was fired for crafting the message, “So you think it's really good, yeah? You should try making the bloody thing up. It's a real pain in the arse!” in the drop capitals of a supplement. Inspired, eh?
Sadly, May’s rather low-key persona seems to have made him the least recognisable member of the ‘Top Gear’ brotherhood. So much so, that a security guard once mistook him for Hammond’s driver, when he pulled up outside the ‘Top Gear’ studio, and actually asked him to wait or to come back for the Hamster later.
However, James is a down-to-earth chap (he plays darts while necking pints of bitter) and found the chauffeur shame quite funny. For that alone, he deserves to be recognised for the star that he is!