In a move that’s equal parts pragmatic and peculiar, Jeremy Clarkson, the outspoken television personality and automotive enthusiast, has officially trademarked his own face as a defensive strategy against the growing scourge of AI-generated deepfake scams. The 65-year-old star, best known for his bombastic style on shows like Top Gear, The Grand Tour, and the surprise hit Clarkson’s Farm, revealed his decision in an interview with The Sun, describing the step as “absurd” yet utterly necessary in today’s digital landscape.
Clarkson, who resides in the picturesque countryside of west Oxfordshire, has built a global empire on his larger-than-life persona. From his early days as a motoring journalist to becoming a household name through the BBC’s Top Gear—where he co-hosted alongside James May and Richard Hammond for over a decade—Clarkson has captivated audiences with his unfiltered opinions, high-speed antics, and dry wit. The show, which ran from 2002 to 2015 under his tenure, became one of the most-watched factual programs in the world, spawning international spin-offs and cementing his status as a cultural icon. After a controversial exit from the BBC, Clarkson transitioned seamlessly to Amazon Prime Video with The Grand Tour in 2016, reuniting with May and Hammond for globe-trotting automotive adventures that blended humor, chaos, and high-octane thrills.
More recently, Clarkson has endeared himself to a new generation through Clarkson’s Farm, a documentary series that chronicles his often comedic struggles running Diddly Squat Farm in the Cotswolds. Debuting in 2021, the show has been praised for its honest portrayal of British agriculture’s challenges, from bureaucratic red tape to unpredictable weather, and has spawned spin-offs, merchandise, and even a farm shop that draws crowds from afar. With millions of viewers tuning in worldwide, Clarkson’s rugged, no-nonsense image has made him a prime target for cybercriminals exploiting advanced AI technology.
The rise of deepfakes—sophisticated AI manipulations that superimpose a person’s likeness onto fabricated videos or audio—has plagued celebrities in recent years, often to promote fraudulent schemes like cryptocurrency investments, dubious loans, or get-rich-quick ploys. Clarkson himself fell victim to such tactics last year when adverts proliferated across the social media platform X (formerly Twitter), falsely depicting him endorsing bitcoin and other digital currencies. In one particularly egregious campaign, deepfakes featured Clarkson alongside May and Hammond, all seemingly vouching for crypto ventures. The trio, known for their on-screen chemistry and off-screen banter, were unwittingly dragged into the scam, prompting widespread confusion among fans.
At the time, Clarkson swiftly addressed the issue on X, posting to his millions of followers: “I don’t even know what cryptocurrency is. But it sounds ghastly.” His candid denial highlighted the absurdity of the situation, but it also underscored a deeper concern: the ease with which AI can hijack a public figure’s identity for nefarious purposes. “It’s an AI thing because there’s so much activity around bitcoin or mortgage loans where my face, name, image, voice, and so on have been used to promote things that I’m not promoting,” Clarkson explained in his recent Sun interview. “I’m protecting people from ‘me’, but it’s not me, promoting something that I’m not. God, it’s absurd.”
This isn’t Clarkson’s first brush with digital deception. Earlier incidents, including AI-generated voiceovers mimicking his distinctive gravelly tone in unauthorized car review clips on YouTube, have amplified his frustration. In a June 2025 exchange on X, when a fan complained about the prevalence of such content, Clarkson retorted: “And how exactly do I get a grip of this AI? I don’t even know where it is.” The comment, laced with his trademark sarcasm, resonated with followers who shared similar encounters with manipulated media.
Trademarking one’s face might sound like the height of celebrity eccentricity—Clarkson himself quipped that it’s “not just my ego running amok”—but legally, it’s a shrewd maneuver. In the UK, trademarks can protect distinctive elements of a person’s identity, such as their likeness, under the Intellectual Property Office’s guidelines for image rights. While not as straightforward as patenting an invention, this registration allows Clarkson to challenge unauthorized commercial uses of his visage, particularly in advertising or endorsements. Experts note that similar protections have been sought by other stars; for instance, Taylor Swift has aggressively pursued trademarks for her name and lyrics, while actors like Scarlett Johansson have sued over AI recreations of their voices without consent.
The broader context of AI scams adds urgency to Clarkson’s actions. According to reports from the BBC and The Telegraph, deepfake technology has exploded in sophistication, enabling fraudsters to create convincing endorsements that dupe unsuspecting victims. In 2024 alone, celebrities like Clarkson, May, and Hammond were featured in crypto scams that reportedly cost investors millions. A Telegraph article from May 2024 detailed how the Grand Tour hosts became “unlikely faces” of such frauds, with AI videos circulating on platforms like Facebook and X. The BBC has also exposed how fake articles and ads, often AI-generated, infiltrate social media, preying on fans’ trust in familiar figures.
Public reaction to Clarkson’s trademark move has been largely supportive, with fans applauding his proactive stance. On social media, comments range from humorous—”Finally, a way to own your own mug!”—to appreciative: “Smart move in this wild AI world.” Industry insiders suggest this could set a precedent for other public figures, as deepfake regulations lag behind technological advances. The European Union and UK governments are exploring stricter AI laws, but for now, individual actions like Clarkson’s provide a frontline defense.
As Clarkson continues to juggle his farming exploits, writing gigs for The Sun and The Sunday Times, and potential new TV projects, this trademark saga adds another layer to his multifaceted career. It’s a reminder that even global stars aren’t immune to the pitfalls of the digital age. By “protecting people from ‘me’,” Clarkson isn’t just safeguarding his brand—he’s highlighting a universal vulnerability in an era where seeing (or hearing) isn’t always believing. Whether this bold step curbs the scams remains to be seen, but one thing’s certain: Jeremy Clarkson’s face is now officially his own intellectual property, absurd as it may seem.
Sophia Grant reports on celebrity news and tech intersections for UK outlets. Follow the evolving AI deepfake debate in entertainment.
