A Rolls-Royce press trip is like being taken by Mary Poppins – Mary of the novel, not the film, she is more savage and interesting – and shown a thing you would not otherwise know. When you arrive at the destination – it is Provence today, but it could be California or Ibiza tomorrow – you find the cars at the airport, laid out in blue and lilac and grey. Among them stand smiling men, whose job it is to help you drive the car: during the self-drive part they stand at roadsides smiling at you, though I think they have had weapons training. If you know this is a Rolls-Royce press trip, fair enough. If you don’t, Lord knows what you make of it. As you are driven to the hotel the police follow you. They are fascinated because, I think, if you have any wits at all, this is what the money is for.  

Ask the smiling men which Rolls-Royce they most love and they will often say the Ghost, the smallest Rolls-Royce at 18 feet long (it is........

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