The Hum of Mother Style.

A very big and nearly new Ferrari sports car drove onto the car park in Ashbourne today. It was ugly. The lines were lumpy and it reminded me of something from a 1950s comic book. Emperor Ming-style, you know? And the (no doubt super efficient) braking mechanism was visible, big and bold in yellow, behind the wheel trims. The size, style and colour were out of synch with the rest of the car – functional, I grant, but hardly pretty. Imagine if I’d remarked to the driver:

‘Your car’s ugly.’

‘Ugly!? Ugly!? How can it be ugly, you idiotic Philistine? It’s a Ferrari, for God’s sake, and the latest model to boot!’

That’s the point, isn’t it? It’s a Ferrari, therefore it’s very expensive. And being both expensive and Italian, it must be stylish by default. More than that even, it must be beautiful.

No. It was ugly. Let’s take the badges off so there isn’t a prancing horse in sight, and park it next to a lowly Mini with the badges also removed. For sheer style – and with a view unencumbered by cultural conditioning – I’d go for the Mini.