James May, the lovey

Yup, I'm officially in love with James May of Top Gear, who lives in London with his black-and-white cat Fusker (a bit like Postman Pat's) and his long-term girlfriend down the road whom he refers to as Woman in his columns.
I used to like Richard Hammond because he's so cute, with an expressive face, though I think he has practised his facial gestures for maximum impact. He can lift one eyebrow, turn his gaze to the camera slightly or give a little smile to convey all that he wants to say but can't. Pretty cool.
But May takes the cake. He's gruff, scruffy, slightly bad-tempered and a bit obsessive, but it's all so adorable.
An interviewer at the Sunday Star Times writes: "From his stripey jumpers, long hair and carefully dishevelled paisley shirts right on down to his battered old Jag, May is the epitome of a certain kind of cultured English bohemian. He has a music degree, plays the harpsichord, loves cats and model trains, flies his own plane, smokes a pipe, and at some stage of life has acquired a toff accent, though he's from working class stock the son of a Bristol steel worker and went to a very ordinary comprehensive school in Yorkshire."
He was fired from an auto magazine for inserting a secret message in the drop-cap of the articles, which read: "So you think it's really good, yeah? You should try making the bloody thing up. It's a real pain in the arse." Very funny and classic James May.
I love Top Gear. I wish they were coming here to Malaysia for the live programme!