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I say, pardon me good sir, it appears I did not have time to allow the chauffeur to circle around my manor and allow me to don my proper formal attire for this here automotive shopping lark I have presently undertaken.
What, that beat up old E90 out there? No, no, that's just a cloaking device upon my new Pullman. I agreed to the subterfuge to keep the hoi poloi from needing to unduly bow and scrape for my every movement. Right proper of me, wouldn't you say?
Now shall we have a spot of a test drive, dearest chap? Would you be so kind as to provide me a spare set of shell cordovan driving gloves? I wouldn't want to sully the steering wheel with this naff caviar and truffle dust I've unfortunately let creep under my most unruly fingernails. Pity.
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