Jeremy Clarkson and James May head to Whitby harbor in England to answer a bold, almost mythic question: which car could lay claim to being the worst in the history of the world. They kick things off by sizing up a Polish Polonez, noting its skin-thin metal and a reliability track record that leaves doubt hanging in the air like a foghorn. The car’s fragility is paired with an impression of basic functionality that doesn’t inspire confidence, setting a probing tone for the rest of the expedition.
Next up is the Mahindra CJ540 jeep. The pair trace its lineage to a US Army design from World War II, then hear how postwar Indian modifications altered its suspension, swapped in a secondhand VW engine, and left the bonnet height raised and the handling feeling loose. The result, they remark, is a vehicle that looks rough and rides rougher, a stark contrast to the polish the best cars typically exhibit.
The hunt for a bad-but-expensive car then leads them to a head-to-head between the Ferrari 458 Strider and the Mercedes SLS. The SLS, they note, edges the Ferrari by a narrow margin in horsepower but burns through tires after only a handful of laps. James concludes that the 458’s engineering shows intention and craft, suggesting Ferrari knew what they were doing—an observation that complicates the idea of “worst car” by highlighting genuine design ambition even in a lineup that strives to fail.
A surprising detour revisits the much-maligned Mondial from 1980. Thousands of buyers pursued a sense of perfection, only to encounter a car that felt slower than a Golf GTI and whose steering could be a daily battle if the seat wasn’t adjusted just right. The verdict is a blend of curiosity and critique: a car marketed as a dream that never quite fulfilled the dream for most drivers.
The discussion turns to the FSO Ferrari, rolled out in 1995 to celebrate Ferrari’s 50th anniversary. Supposed to deliver an everyday F1 experience to Ferrari’s top customers, it instead carries a V12 that shares little with the real F1 engine, is heavier, and requires numerous accessories to function as a road car. It becomes a symbol of overreach rather than pure romance, lacking the crispness one expects from a true performance badge.
Moving to the BMW X3, the pair weighs its place in the lineup of luxury SUVs. Marketed as a compact counterpart to the X5, it doesn’t quite reach the comfort or the character of its sibling, in their view, casting a shadow over BMW’s otherwise strong recent run and making the X3 feel out of step with the brand’s best work.
A broad sweep across American cars follows, highlighting a string of classics that failed to impress. James compares power and luxury across the Lincoln, Buick, and other big-name models while Jeremy tests, times, and pokes holes in the promises of performance. The contrasts are sharp: even seemingly strong machines with big engines struggle to deliver on the hopes attached to their reputations, and the dynamic balance that defines a great car seems missing in many of these examples.
The duo then surveys the Lancia Epsilon, a city car that tries to be affordable and practical but drifts away from its sporty roots. The result is a vehicle that loses its niche and ends up feeling adrift in a sea of rivals that do better what it attempts.
Alfa Romeo’s GTV6 enters the frame, marked by a fantastic V6 engine but hampered by a hatchback design where the back seats and fuel tank arrangements get in the way. The car’s concept—an otherwise promising combination of performance and practicality—becomes a target for derision, illustrating how design choices can undermine even a strong drivetrain.
French cars get their due (or deserved critique) with the Citroën Pluriel and a Saab Sensonic. The Citroën’s roof panels are so awkward to remove they disrupt the very idea of open-top driving, while the Saab’s automatic transmission with no clutch complicates manual-style precision, making parallel parking feel almost impossible on an incline.
The test then shifts to a pair of storied, if controversial, German machines. The Porsche 911 Carrera RS from 1991 earns its share of sharp notes for handling quirks, while the Ford Escort Cosworth—one of Jeremy’s favorites—loses its edge under a heavy turbo system that proves difficult to refine. The Ford GTI of 2005 is criticized for its width, which makes it impractical on the kinds of roads the car is meant to dominate.
Other legendary cars enter the conversation, including the 1972 Rolls-Royce Corsair and the Mercedes AMG C63. The Corsair’s hydraulic system and handmade parts create a maintenance limbo that makes reliability feel like a memory, while the C63’s high-tech differential requires a lengthy warm-up and grips the tires hard, delivering torque in a way that can overwhelm the chassis. The playful moment when Jeremy places a Ford atop a Fiat Panda underlines the ongoing battle of misfit aims and misapplied engineering.
A truce eventually settles over the day’s debate as the hosts acknowledge the line between brilliance and blunder can be thin. They pivot toward hypercars, with the Lexus LFA standing out as an extreme example of ambition that doesn’t quite land in practice: wide and raw, front-engined, and priced to match its limited, polarizing appeal. It’s expensive, complex, and not universally loved, offering a sobering counterpoint to Ferrari’s and BMW’s more assured machinery.
The Lexus SC 430 then enters the conversation, notable for its retractable aluminum roof paired with an interior heavy in wood and a V8 that feels underpowered for the car’s heft. The combination yields a ride that struggles to justify the price tag or the badge, leaving a sour impression in contrast to some of the lighter, quicker rivals on the track.
As the day winds down, the duo round on Peugeot, with the 308 taking the unwanted crown. Its looks, comfort, and performance fail to spark excitement, and the verdict broadens to a broader comment on how some brands can falter in the most unglamorous ways.
In the end, the pair concludes that the Lexus SC430 and the Peugeot 308 meet many of the criteria for the “world’s worst car”—they’re slow, poorly aligned with expectations, expensive, and lacking in the engineering spark that makes a great car memorable. The final gesture is both pragmatic and playful: the SC430 is chosen as a gift to Richard Hammond, a nod to the show’s ongoing sense of humor even as it harpoons a lineup of ambitious misfires.
