[voiceover] As an engineering exercise, the Cayenne is astonishing. Only the Germans could've pulled it off. But all their efforts with the power and the speed and the toughness and the agility - they were all a complete and utter waste of time. Because look at it.
I think what they tried to do is make the front look like a 911. Which it doesn't. And then from here back it looks like they just haven't bothered! Honestly, I have seen more attractive gangrenous wounds than this. It is a monkfish among cars. It has the sex appeal of a camel with gingivitis, and frankly I would rather walk back to the studio than drive another yard in it. So I shall. [looks around, points] That way. [walks out of frame]
And then they tell you - proudly! - that there's enough room in the boot for two sets of golf clubs. And that worries me, that's just fat-businessman stuff. It's a marriage between McLaren and Mercedes, the SLR. And it's brilliant! I just wish it was a bit more McLaren and a bit less Mercedes.
Inside, it's pretty much as you'd expect: hopeless. I've got no satellite navigation, no electric seats, no airbag, and while there is a third gear - nnnngh! - I don't really have the strength to engage it. Furthermore, this window doesn't go all the way down, as you can see, the antilock brakes are broken, there's nowhere to put my left leg, the dashboard looks like I made it, and half the time the dials come over all Longbridge-ish and go on strike.
This car has one of the world's great engines, a big, gurgling V8 with huge torque and an even huger thirst. Flat-out, at 165 miles an hour, this car is using a kilo of fuel every minute. That's jet fighter consumption, but then it goes like a jet fighter!
This car is plastic. It has a stupid rear spoiler and it's made by a company no one's ever heard of on an industrial estate in Leicestershire. So for posing it's hopeless. But for the undiluted thrill of driving, it's almost impossible to do better.
