Richard Hammond of Top Gear fame has always been a notorious Ford and Mustang obsessive. For years he’s waxed lyrical about pony cars, American V8 thunder, and the pure, unfiltered joy of rear-wheel-drive chaos. So when rumours surfaced that he’d finally bagged himself a proper Mustang Dark Horse, the internet lost its mind. And there it was, parked proudly at the Goodwood Festival of Speed, gleaming under the Sussex sun like a black missile with attitude.The car itself was magnificent: wide hips, aggressive snout, and that glorious supercharged-adjacent snarl every time the throttle blipped. But nobody was looking at the carbon-fibre wing or the massive brakes. Everyone was staring at the number plate: DI CKH.DI CKH.

As in… Dickhead.

Hammond stood beside it in his trademark leather jacket, arms folded, wearing the smuggest grin in automotive history. “What?” he shrugged as a crowd gathered. “It’s my initials. Richard. I. Hammond. Perfectly above board. The DVLA approved it, so it must be fine.”Jeremy Clarkson, wandering past with a pint in hand, nearly spat his beer across the grass. “You absolute weapon. You’ve spent decades surviving fiery crashes, and this is how you go out? Death by personalised plate? The Hamster finally identifies as a dickhead.”James May just stared at the Mustang, blinking slowly. “It’s… very loud. Both the car and the plate.”A group of Porsche owners had parked their Cayenne right next to it, all stickers and serious faces, only to be confronted by this glorious, black, American upstart mocking itself. One of them read the plate aloud and started laughing so hard his gilet nearly burst. “You’ve driven a dickhead plate to Goodwood?

In front of the entire motoring world?”Hammond patted the Dark Horse’s hood affectionately. “She’s been waiting for this moment. I’ve loved Mustangs forever. This one’s the proper one — 500 horsepower of glorious, tail-happy nonsense. And yes, maybe I am a bit of a dickhead for buying it. But at least I’m an honest one.”Later, during a low-speed parade lap, the Mustang gave a cheeky bellow that echoed across the hill. Hammond waved at the crowds like a rockstar. The car looked menacing and magnificent, but that plate told the real story: a man who’s crashed more cars than most people have owned, still grinning, still taking the mickey out of himself.As the sun set over Goodwood, the black Mustang sat proudly beside the red Porsche, two very different breeds sharing the same turf. And somewhere, the Top Gear producers were already writing the insurance claim.Because of course The Hamster brought a dickhead plate to the biggest car show in Britain.

Thanks to 00R for the tipoff!