Or maybe not. I think this particular Rolls Royce could just be the world’s most tasteless motorcar, although I’m equally sure that its owner believes it to be the bees knees.

Whoever it belongs to, and wherever they may be from (I think the flag on the number plate suggests Guernsey, but I’m not 100 per cent certain; the car was parked up outside one of those heinously expensive clothes boutiques that you only ever see in Beverly Hills or Knightsbridge, or in this case Puerto Banus, and which you’re ever only allowed in to by way of a personal invitation; and no, don’t ask why I happened to be passing by. This monster of a machine has to the best/worst example of what not to do to a perfectly decent Rolls Royce.