I went to a car show yesterday. I love cars. Always have. Ever since I was old enough to pick up a ‘Matchbox’ Chevrolet Impala and hit my brother on the head with it. Repeatedly. So when we received an ‘offer’ from the bank ‘inviting’ us to, not just some random car show in, like Tottenham or Neasden, but in… Chelsea!!!, I had to sit up and… act posh. The show was organised by ‘Salon Privee’, possibly the most pretentious name you can find, even in Chelsea, which is quite famous for all forms of pretension. As I had no idea what was involved; I just saw ‘free tickets’ and booked it, I looked it up. Pics of posh people in suits, glossy hair, whitened smiles, sipping pink champagne out of crystal glasses. Looking posh. I immediately went and put on a less ripped pair of Levis. That’s posh, innit? I needed to look… like a ponced up Chelsea tart in the market for a car.

The venue was the Royal Chelsea Hospital. I had visions of entering a ward to see some (posh) geezer telling a nurse “move that fucking life support unit; it might scratch the Maserati!!!” But in fact the Royal Chelsea Hospital is not a real hospital, but where they keep the Chelsea Pensioners. We saw a few but you’re not allowed to shoot them any more. Not since 1945. And the grounds are not just incredibly beautiful, but beautiful in a really posh way. And that’s where they loaded the cars.

And such cars as to be quite unbelievable. Everything for sale, obviously. And the Koenigsegg pictured here will only cost you £3mil. And it can do 330mph. That’s just 10 grand for each mile per hour!!! I asked if I could give them 20 grand and just drive it really slowly. And its good in the snow, with that scoop on the front.

They had every obscene hypercar on the market. Even though most, amazingly, have waiting lists and you can’t even get on that list without being richer than… richer than Rishi.

But they also had some ‘real’ cars there. Old ones. 1958 Bentleys (only ONE million for that), and some truly amazing old metal in perfect showroom condition which, to be honest, I’d take rather than the Paganis and Ferraris. I’ll show you some of them over the next few days just because…

We needed the toilet. So walked up to the ‘Sloane Pavillion’. A fancy tent filled with tables and posh people drinking, eating and, surely they have a toilet facility in there, even if only a really posh one. Posh people pee, don’t they? But we were met by a black-suited, ear-pieced FBI impersonator whose job was to tell the truly posh from the wannabes like me, and he pointed us to some less posh kharsis round the corner. Because you get a lot for the 50 quid you should have paid to enter, but not being able to piss with the ponces.

But what a great day. Free tube travel for old people, free entry to the show and, because I managed to not buy the 1971 AC Cobra for 400k, albeit reluctantly, it didn’t cost a penny.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx