Supercars… aren’t that super. Sure, they go fast and they look like the automotive equivalent of Concorde, but they are rough as hell.
Get in a Lamborghini Gallardo and you’ll find the seating woefully uncomfortable. Then there’s the switchgear: somebody raided the Duplo parts bin.
Okay, so forget the Lambo, why not try the R8? Well that’s just an Audi and once in you might as well be in an A4 saloon.
Right, how about something more exotic – what about a Ferrari? Not really. There are no redeeming features on a 599 and the California looks like a boat: it’s got a big, fat ugly arse and it’s largely driven by overpaid dimwits.
Okay, what about a Bugatti Veyron? Fast, but you might as well buy a house.
Pagani Zonda then? Looks like a fairground ride inside and out.
An Aston Martin DBS? Handles like the QE2 and has less space.
Noble M600? British built, pre-disposed to fall to bits.
Spyker? The Dutch are only good at building cheese.
Blimey, what about a Koenigsegg? It’s from a nation that invented the Volvo.
No, save yourself a lot of money and buy a black Maserati Quattroporte – it’s not a real supercar but it’s got four seats, cruises nicely along the motorway and people won’t throw kebabs on your windscreen after a night out.