Left-field choices for young drivers

Not in Cheshire.

If the lad didn't want it, I'll have it.

Twingo.
Sumo.
How far?
No va.

Just noticed Al's caveat about high-maintenance Annabelles and Camillas on the last page. Oh dear. My younger daughter is Camilla (Mills) and her daughter is Annabelle (Bella). I wouldn't disagree.

Proper London Sloanies would love a bashed old Twingo. They all used to charge about in beaten up Renault 5s in the 80s. Ideal for parking in Kensington (not the one in Liverpool, Humph), and racing round the stables yard in Orxfordsheer at Mummy's estate, darling. Fwa fwa fwa. Motorised ashtrays which smelled horribly of horseshit and mud. Proper class.

Flashy wannabes in Chelsea. New money. Proper money is in Kensington. With an old Renault.

Even older Renault. Dauphin, maybe. Or a really old, proper Subaru. Still own the Orxfordsheer estate, but can't afford to fix the leaky roof, so only live in one wing. Never sell real assets, just scrape by, bimbling along on the Coutts overdraft and whatever the estate manager can wring out of sheep sales. The Kensington pad could do with some work too, but hey, isn't it so darling and charming and shabby chic? Anything to avoid having to do paid work really (apart from Lavinia being a Nanny for a bit until she marries a proper chap), that would be common.

Remember Audrey fforbes-Hamilton in To the Manor Born?  That sort of thing.  Peugeot 205, maybe.

Either that or open a Safari Park in the back garden, go completely Tonto and never wear shoes again.  Proper 1950s Land Rover, or Austin Gypsy.

Golf GTi?  Yuppie.

Might have been accused of a bit of that once upon Al. Pink or striped shirt, chinos, blazer, brown or tan suede brogues, GTi etc. Drank Grolsch from the bottle, or G&Ts of course, and smoked Marlboro reds lit with a brass Zippo. Can't really bear to think about it.

But you're right, any form of Golf, 205, R5, even Mk1 Pandas were ok back then. Or, if you were a bit alternative, an MGB/MGBGT. Trying desperately to remember the name of a riverside pub/beer garden we used to hang about in dressed so appallingly. It'll come to me in the night if I have too much cheese before bed.