I'D LIKE to argue this week that my ideal world would be a happy-clappy one brimmed with a healthy helping of democracy, but I can't because it wouldn't.
Simister's Britain, of course, would be a brutal but benevolent dictatorship where the great and the good would be made to share their contributions with the rest of society and the less fortunate would be given a helping hand. Most importantly of all, the stupid and annoying would be punished for their various crimes as I saw fit. Particularly those who buy a convertible and then refuse to put the roof down.
On a fine, sunny, spring day yesterday I drove all the way to Manchester and back with the roof down and loved it - but every other car that could have had its canvas or folding-metal roof down didn't. My fellow convertible connoisseurs, in Simister's Britain, would be seen as wasting an opportunity and thus punishable by a lengthy spell in prison given the absolute power I'd inevitably wield. Naturally, said prison would have a retractable roof which opened every time the sun came out, as part of the corrective justice my dictatorship would provide.
Driving a convertible is one of the most enjoyable experiences of motoring - with the wind in your hair, a blue sky rather than a roof lining above your head and the sounds and smells of the great British countryside wafting directly into the cabin, you somehow feel a little bit closer to nature. It's a thrill that harks back to the dawn of motoring - the very first horseless carriages came al fresco - it's something British motorists have long embraced and most importantly of all it's fun. People who refuse to put their roof down when the sky is blue and the sun is shining are missing the point completely.
While the officers working for my secret police force will respect drivers' rights to put their roof up if it's cold, dark, or rainy, the pleasure of driving an open-top car with the roof down on a beautiful day will be mandatory, because otherwise drivers would be defeating the point of owning a Z4/MX-5/TF (or even lowlier ragtops, like the Escort and Astra cabriolets). A ragtop with its roof down would be a proud, powerful symbol of the freedom Simister's Britain would bring its citizens.
All cars are equal, obviously, but some are more equal than others.