Don’t you find modern day Rollers rather disagreeable? All that bling. All that overstated chrome, slab sides and footballers’ wives high chintz interior. Now they’ve sliced the roof off the Phantom it gets even worse – you can see the tasteless buyers in their perma-tanned glory.
And no, my prejudice against the modern Rolls isn’t based entirely on envy. Good luck to ‘em, and all that. At least the sort of lottery winner who rolls down to the nearest dealership and splashes a deposit has got the genuine excuse that, with a ‘G’ reg Ford Escort as trade in, they don’t know what an automotive faux pas they’re making.
But the genuinely super-rich who do likewise aren’t even buying ironically – they genuinely like these leviathans and everything they represent.
Which is what, exactly? Proper old-school Rolls exemplified the best and worst of British craftsmanship – from stunning interiors to freak electrical fires. The Phantom doesn’t even have character-enhancing faults on its side, and it proves that the upper reaches of the UK motor industry have become a glorified assembly operation for Germans, who design and make all the important, oily bits properly. Our craftsmen and women just add the walnut and leather frippery.