There is a new/old
battered Land Rover at Fool Stables. I am both glad and sorry to say that it
replaces the Renault 4 L in the affections of the Fool on The Hill. Make no
mistake, I still love the 4 L dearly, and stand by everything I said about her
(yes, cars have a gender), but where the 4 L is cute and dainty and delicate,
the Land Rover is square and tough and an altogether more serious piece of kit.
I have always wanted one, and now I have it, and the fact is I love it more.
No Middle Eastern
potentate collecting his latest gold-plated Roller from a posh West End dealer
– or superstar fooballer his purple Lambo from Sant’Agata Bolognese – has
anything on a Fool and his Landy.
Down-at-heel
aristo car porn trumps bling any day of the week. (Or so we console ourselves
thinking.)
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