Top Gear Cockometer Guide

By the time they reached the Highland hotel, the scores were locked. Jeremy finished with an , having done a three-point turn in a farmer’s driveway just to hear his own exhaust echo off a barn. Richard held a 9.2 —the Porsche had detected him “revving at a horse.” But James…

“No, James,” Richard Hammond grinned, bouncing on his heels. “It stands for exactly what you think it stands for. And look—there’s a needle. Zero to ten.”

The challenge was simple: three cars, one road trip from London to the Scottish Highlands, and a hard-wired Cockometer in each. The rules: drive normally. The car’s onboard AI, linked to throttle position, lane changes, rev-matching aggression, and the frequency of unnecessary downshifts, would assign a real-time “Cock Rating.” The higher the score, the bigger the cock. top gear cockometer

Richard attempted to overtake a caravan on a blind bend. The Porsche’s nose lifted, the dial buried itself at , and the voice announced: “Cock of the Year candidate registered. Sending telemetry to insurance database.” Richard went pale.

James May leaned in, adjusting his spectacles. “It’s a secondary dial, clearly aftermarket. The font is… aggressive. What does ‘C.O.C.K.’ stand for? Center of Control Kinetics?” By the time they reached the Highland hotel,

“Right,” Jeremy began, his voice echoing off the hangar walls. “James, Richard. Look at this. I thought I’d seen everything. A tyre pressure gauge that tells you the weather. A sat-nav that judges your parking. But this…”

“That’s impossible!” James cried.

James selected a 1998 Volvo V70 diesel, beige, with a broken CD changer. “Zero,” he predicted. “I will be invisible.”