Funeral for a Stig

In the “boy did I ever pick a bad week to stop surfing the Internets” department, in case you’re like me, buried under a mountain of work and have not heard the news, The Stig has, um, “come out of the helmet” as it were. Now, since I wasn’t following all of the events that closely (I wasn’t surfing the Internets recently. I’ve been busy hiding under a rock, participating in full contact knitting, and dodging stray hurricanes blowing in off the Gulf of Mexico to really be on top of these things) I can’t give you all of the gory details, but I do know that the helmet is off and he’s even doing TV interviews sitting next to the familiar white suit and crash helmet supreme.

Damn. Did I pick a bad week to quit surfing the Internet or what? I think I need to take up drinking now.

It’s an odd thing that Stig identity was. I mean, everybody sort of knew who he was without really knowing who he was and now that, well, we know who he is we really don’t know who he is, or rather, who he’s going to be next season on TV. (Oh dear, have I mentioned I really need to take up drinking? Yeah, thought so.)

I guess the events of the past week (few weeks?) can be summed up as follows: the guy who was The Stig on Top Gear wanted to write a book. The folks at the BBC did not want him to write a book, or at least write one claiming he was The Stig because, well, because that sort of defeats the purpose of that whole “anonymous racing driver” bit (well, at least the “anonymous” part. By all accounts, he’s still a racing driver.) They all went to court (where these things usually end up) and there was some kind of injunction which resulted in the Stig being “outed.” The book is going to come out soon and officially producers of the show have announced that the old Stig has left the show.

No word yet on any kind of Stig replacement, though I would imagine there will be one. Also, no word on how they are going to kill him off. [For those of you who aren’t Top Gear fans, the first Stig (the black one) was killed off after he “outed” himself by writing a book so they had him drive off an aircraft carrier. (Note to Top Gear producers: next time you hire a replacement Stig, you might want to get one who doesn’t know how to write very well.)]

In case you’re wondering who the Stig really is, he’s Ben Collins, a British racing car driver who lives in Bristol with his wife and three young daughters.

I can only imagine what it’s like to be a 3 year old and have a “Daddy Stig” hanging around the house. Just think of the talk around that sandbox:

“My Daddy’s a fireman. He saves cats from big, bad trees. What does your Daddy do?”

“My Daddy’s a Stig. He’s very quiet and stands with his arms folded a lot. When he’s not doing that, he drives really very fast.” (HA! You got that right, kid.)

Since it would appear that the recently “outed” Stig is already married, my plan to hunt down, catch, and marry Lord Stig, retiring to a life of British wealth and nobility (hey, just because he purchased that title over the Internet, that’s no reason to snicker!) has been thwarted, I’ve decided to resume my hunt for red leaves and dodge stray hurricanes full-time. (Of course, there’s always David Tennant, right? And Trent Reznor, let’s not forget about him.) I mean, while Stig is all that much easier to catch now that I know what he looks like and all, I don’t want to touch an already married man (though it is comforting to know we are actually the same species. I was starting to worry there, what with all that talk of extra sets of knees and all.) So, for now anyway, it’s goodbye Stig, hello, David! Though, I suppose, you do now know what to get me for Christmas (Hint: It’s a book silly.)

Meh. Stiggy’s been outed. What’s a girl to do?

Somebody play taps for the man in the white suit. Viva La Stiggy!

Until next time…

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