There was a car in Sainsbury’s car park today which stood
out against all the others. It was huge, almost new, immaculately clean and
shiny, kitted out in battleship grey metallic livery, and proudly sporting a
Volvo badge. I thought it hideous. (I dislike big cars by default, and anyone
who knows anything about me will no doubt understand why.)
And then it struck me as odd that it should be a Volvo. Volvos are Swedish, or used to be, and Swedes are generally known for their refined taste. There was nothing tasteful about this monstrosity. It was heavy and clumpy and needed a cowcatcher to finish it off. And of course, I naturally fell to wondering what sort of person would spend all that money to not only own such a monument to the ugliness of opulence, but even be content to be seen sitting in it. Probably not a Swede, but I won’t go on.
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