True to form, the cars were chosen not for their suitability, but for the presenters' specific brands of vanity:
The opening act provides some of the most tense yet hilarious footage the show ever produced. Driving through the Turkish borderlands, the trio is constantly reminded of the dangers of the Kurdish region. They pass signs warning of landmines and navigate checkpoints manned by heavily armed soldiers.
The humor here is born of awkwardness. Clarkson attempts to ask a local about the reliability of his car while surrounded by militia members. It is a stark reminder that the Top Gear team was operating on the fringes of safety, providing a backdrop that the studio segments could never replicate.
After crossing into Jordan, the trio visits the Dead Sea—the lowest point on Earth. They attempt to demonstrate the high salinity by having a buoyant Clarkson float. But the real drama comes when they try to drive away. The salt and mud have corroded everything. Hammond’s MX-5 refuses to start. May’s BMW makes a sound like a dying walrus. Clarkson’s Fiat begins to smoke. For ten minutes, three of the UK’s most famous motoring journalists look utterly defeated by a puddle of salt.
The premise is deceptively simple: find three used, roofless roadsters for under £3,500 and drive from the center of Iraq to the coast of Israel (via Jordan). Of course, the Top Gear production team never does anything simply. The journey begins in Erbil, the capital of Iraqi Kurdistan—a region described by Jeremy Clarkson as "the second most dangerous place on Earth, after a pub in Stoke."
Unlike later Grand Tour specials that relied on multi-million-dollar budgets and scripted explosions, the Middle East Special retains an organic grit. The threat of instability, the heat of the desert, and the genuine mechanical failures create a tension that scripted television cannot replicate. This is the full episode experience: uncut, raw, and hilariously uncomfortable.
The Middle East Special represents the "Golden Age" of Top Gear. It was the perfect balance of the three key ingredients: top gear - middle east special full episode
It proved that you didn't need supercars or explosions to make great television. You just needed three friends, three terrible cars, and a map. As the credits rolled to the sound of Silent Night, viewers realized they hadn't just watched a car show; they had watched a Christmas story for the petrolhead generation.
What are your memories of the Middle East Special? Was James May's BMW the true hero, or did Hammond's Fiat deserve more credit? Let us know in the comments.
Top Gear: Middle East Special (2010) is widely regarded as one of the peak moments of the Clarkson, Hammond, and May era. Following the path of the Three Wise Men in three used convertibles, the trio delivers a 76-minute adventure that blends "puerile" schoolboy humor with a hauntingly beautiful historical record of regions soon to be changed forever. The Premise: One Wise Man, an Idiot, and a Cheat
The challenge was simple yet absurd: buy a used convertible for under £3,500 and drive from Iraqi Kurdistan to Bethlehem. Jeremy Clarkson Mazda MX-5
, which he later decorated with a "Technicolor Dreamcoat" paint job. Richard Hammond Fiat Barchetta Riviera , which he famously modified into a nomadic "moving tent". went with a
, though he went over budget, earning him the title of the "cheat". Highlights: Chaos and Comedy The Landing: True to form, the cars were chosen not
In a signature over-the-top intro, the presenters arrive in an Ilyushin Il-76 cargo plane that performs a "go-around" before dropping them in Erbil, Iraq. The Burqa Disguise:
After James May suffered a concussion from a tow rope accident in Syria, Clarkson and Hammond famously picked him up from the hospital wearing burqas to "blend in"—a scene that remains a fan favorite for its sheer ridiculousness. The "Genesis" Prank:
To torment Hammond, Clarkson and May rigged his car stereo to play songs by the band
non-stop, showcasing the trio's classic "cruel but funny" chemistry. The Nativity Finale:
Reaching Bethlehem, they presented "gifts": gold-relief for James, hotel shampoo for Richard (as frankincense), and a Nintendo DS for Jeremy (replacing myrrh). The "Baby Jesus" in the manger was revealed to be a A Bittersweet Time Capsule
What makes this episode stand out today is its unintentional status as a historical record. It contains some of the last high-definition footage of the ancient city of It proved that you didn't need supercars or
before its destruction by ISIS, and portrays a pre-civil war Syria as a welcoming, vibrant place. This backdrop of peaceful landscapes that were soon ravaged by conflict adds a layer of poignancy that few other specials possess. Critical Verdict
Crossing into Jordan, the landscape opens up into the sweeping deserts of Wadi Rum. This is where the cinematography team earns their paycheck. The shots of the three beat-up convertibles tearing across the red sands, chasing the sun, are breathtaking.
It is here that the "Stig" makes his obligatory special appearance—this time, "Middle East Stig"—who is promptly abandoned in the desert after wrecking his car. The trio then engages in a series of pointless challenges, including driving up impossible dunes and Jeremy Clarkson’s ill-fated attempt to sleep on the roof of his Mazda.
The genius of Top Gear always lay in the restriction. Give three competent drivers fast cars on a track, and you get motoring journalism. Give them terrible cars in a hostile environment, and you get farce.
The starting point was Erbil in Northern Iraq. The cars were a fraud:
These were not off-road vehicles. They were low-slung, fragile, rear-wheel-drive sports cars. Sending them across the desert towards the cradle of civilization was an act of deliberate automotive cruelty. The "Stig’s" cousin—an enigmatic figure in a beige robe—and a quick drive through a minefield set the tone immediately. This was dangerous, but it was also going to be hilarious.
One of the most fascinating aspects of watching this episode in retrospect is the geopolitical snapshot it provides. At the time of filming, the borders between Northern Iraq, Syria, and Turkey were porous enough for a BBC film crew to navigate with relative ease (and a lot of paperwork).
Today, the route they took is largely impossible due to the Syrian Civil War and the rise of ISIS. The special inadvertently serves as a time capsule of a fleeting moment of relative stability in the region. It adds a layer of melancholy to the viewing experience; the ruins they passed in Palmyra have since suffered damage, and the bustling markets they visited have faced years of strife.