I think I know why Rolls-Royce names its cars for the spirit world. They are called Ghost (the saloon, though it inhabits the wilder shores of that name), Phantom (the flagship saloon with bespoke art gallery on the dash) and now Spectre (the coupé).

I think that, like the slave at the general’s triumph in Rome, it exists to remind the driver that he is mortal, and he will die. He is unlikely to die in a Rolls-Royce, it is true, though I heard a story about a Rolls-Royce driving through a forest in a storm. The collision light blinked, the driver slowed and saw the moose in the road, braked and saved both an embarrassing death. I appreciate this acknowledgement of the closeness of death in anything, but particularly in a car: it’s philosophy as add-on, like the picnic basket, paint colour or luggage. Or, if you live in the Middle East, falconry capability.

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But this is typical, at least here. Take the Starlight Headliner: one must wade through copywriting, leather and lambswool to get to the essential savagery of........

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