The test drive

A motor-car dealership off the North Circular Road. Red, white and blue bunting flutters cheerfully over shining prestige models, boots and doors open to air the interiors. Two well-dressed and well-lunched customers peruse the offerings. A moustachioed gentleman in a sheepskin follows at a discreet distance.

Customers: “Ooooh, now this is a nice car.”

Salesman: “It’s the Britannia. A good seller.”

Customers: “Lovely. Does it have all the…”

Salesman: “Bells and whistles? Oh yes. It has every option. Every choice under the sun – provided you have the necessary, er…”

Customers: “Cash?”

Salesman: “Well I prefer not to be quite so direct.”

Customers: “You’re speaking our language. Nothing wrong with a little oiling of the machinery, though, so to speak. We like incentivisation. What fuel does it use?”

Salesman: “It’s a hybrid. Dual fuel.”

Customers: “Really? Lovely.”

Salesman: “Yes. It can run on Graft, for City driving, and the Fires of Hell for everywhere else.”

Customers: “Tremendous. Can we have a test drive?”

Salesman: “Of course.”

They peer inside as the salesman fetches the key.

Customers: “Oh. There’s only one set of controls.”

Salesman: “Yes?”

Customers: “Well we need two – one for him and one for me. He likes to operate the accelerator all the time and I jump on the brakes.”

Salesman: “I see.”

Customers: “That’s the way we’ve always driven.”

Salesman: “Pretty uncomfortable for your passengers, I would have thought.”

Customers: “Oh, we don’t worry about them. If they get rowdy we just turn the entertainment up. It does have a radio? We do like to hear ourselves. And the dual controls, of course.”

Salesman: “Any option you require – as long as…”

Customers: “Yes, yes, yes, we know. Lovely. I think we’ll take it. Just have to work out who pays. Let’s go for a spin.”