I’m not over-keen on anything definitively final, Cup Finals aside (though, as a West Ham fan, I’ve seen only two won in 43 years, so even that’s hard to be sure about). I’m great at hellos but dreadful at goodbyes, cried all the way through ‘Your Song’ at Elton’s last ever London performance when I realised the soundtrack of my life was truly at the end of the Yellow Brick Road, and become dreadfully morose most New Year’s Eves. What’s to celebrate about something being over?
That it existed in the first place, guise targeting Bentley and Aston Martin, and so this relatively diminutive, especially raucous two-seater is to be done and dusted.
