Will the owner of the sickly brown VW Golf please come forward immediately. We want to interview you.
We found this garishly decorated kitschmobile in the leafy streets of South Hampstead, nestling incongruously amongst the Mercs and Jags of the moneybags residents.
The car is presumably fitted with a flux capacitor, having seemingly returned from a voyage through the decades on a mission to collect every piece of auto-tat ever made. Padded ‘bitch’ steering wheel, tiger-skin cushions and leopard-skin stars (What? Who? Why?), a bumper sticker that reads ‘Caution, blonde thinking’. A Flat Eric toy, for bastard's sake. Just needs some furry dice and it would carve a hole in the space-irony continuum.
To paraphrase Lloyd Grossman: Who could drive in a car like this? London, it’s over to you.
