Back on the road with Bertie Wooster and Captain Hastings

By far and away the most popular post ever published on Eclectic Ephemera was my study of the cars driven by two of our favourite fictional (alas!) chaps - Bertie Wooster and Captain Hastings.  Originally composed in June 2014 it has to date racked up a frankly astonishing 19,516 views and continues to attract comments more than six years after publication.  Clearly it has proved popular with both Wodehouse and Hastings fans the world over and it has been some recent comments from a few of the former that has inspired me to revisit the topic once again.

In my original post I focussed on the shared automotive tastes of Messrs. Wooster and Hastings in the form of the two interconnected marques of Aston Martin (Bertie) and Lagonda (Hastings).  At the time I mentioned that neither character's motor was specified in the books and while that may be true in the case of Captain Hastings ("The Cases of Captain Hastings" - now there's an idea for some fanfic!) it was subsequently pointed out to me that Wodehouse did name-check two makes of car in a couple of his Jeeves books so it struck me as the perfect opportunity to make another post out of the fact and to set the record straight.  (I was also corrected in the matter of the car Plum was pictured in outside a friend's home in Norfolk in 1928, which I had initially [mis]identified as a Morris Oxford Bullnose but which in fact was an AC 12hp Tourer.)

Wodehouse in his AC 12hp Tourer (NOT a Morris Bullnose), outside Hunstanton
Hall, Norfolk in 1928.

Bertie Wooster's Sunbeam

I did say in my initial post that "to my certain knowledge" P. G. Wodehouse never referenced the car Bertie drives and only has him allude to "the old two-seater" or "sports model"; this was I admit based on a brief and slightly hazy recollection of all the Jeeves stories I had read over the years and even then there was a nagging doubt in the back of my mind that somewhere there was a reference to a specific model but short of going back through the whole collected works - a not unpleasant undertaking to be sure but rather a big job for a simple blog post! - I wasn't sure how I was going to go about identifying it.

Thanks however to a comment on the original post from an anonymous Wodehousian a couple of months ago my information was updated and memory jogged so that I was reminded that in the short story "Bertie Changes His Mind" (from the book Carry On, Jeeves) the character of Peggy Mainwairing, a schoolgirl Bertie and Jeeves give a lift to, asks of our hero "What's your car? A Sunbeam, isn't it?".  While no further detail is given either in this or later stories Wodehouse scholars have alighted on the 1925 Sunbeam 20/60 Sports as being the most likely candidate and I can certainly understand why (1925 being the year of Carry On, Jeeves' publication for one thing).

source - ClassicCarsForSale

One could easily see Bertie and Jeeves pootling along in such a car as this - the 20/60 being marketed against the equivalent 20hp Rolls-Royce of the period; available in a number of different bodystyles built by either Sunbeam or various coachbuilders on a standard chassis (as was the practice of the time), the Sports model was offered as a two-seater (with a separate dickey seat in the back) and looks every inch the spiffy vehicle that would have appealed to a chap like Wooster.

source - V&P Classic Cars

The history of the Sunbeam cars is a rather convoluted one and would easily fill an entire blog post alone.  Suffice to say that, like so many early 20th century car companies, Sunbeams roots can be found in late 19th century bicycle manufacture - in this case the creation of Wolverhampton businessman and engineer John Marston.  A keen cyclist, in the 1870s he branched out from manufacturing tinplate into making his own bicycles with the name "Sunbeam" being suggested by his wife Ellen.  As with many Victorian entrepreneurs Marston wanted his machines to of the highest quality and Sunbeam Cycles were soon widely regarded as among the best available, a reputation it held on to until bicycle production ceased in 1936.  The company began making motorcars around 1901-1902 but then in 1905 the business was split up, with the newly-formed Sunbeam Motor Car Company Ltd taking over car production while Sunbeam Cycles continued in the ownership of Marston (with motorcycle production lasting until 1956).

Louis Coatalen in his Sunbeam Nautilus, Brooklands 1910
source - Wikimedia Commons

In the years prior to the Great War the Sunbeam Motor Company grew to become a serious contender in the luxury car market, rivalling the likes of Rolls-Royce, Bentley and Daimler.  Under the auspices of French automotive engineer Louis Coatalen, who joined the company in 1909 as chief designer, Sunbeam branched out into motor racing and Land Speed Record cars; during the First World War it also produced aero engines and commercial vehicles (the latter continuing until the mid-1960s and encompassing buses, trams, trolleybuses and even milk floats!).   Following the war's end Sunbeam merged with two competitors, Darracq and Talbot but each would continue as separate entities.  The 1920s were Sunbeam's heyday with its luxury limousines and sports models like the 20/60 proving popular with the well-heeled set of the time.  The 20/60 was produced from 1924 to 1932 in various bodystyles ranging from large 6-seater limousines, through 4-seater open tourers to rarer examples like this drophead coupe - only three of which still exist, including this one currently for sale (and you know what they say - if you have to ask the price...).

source - ClassicCarsForSale

Sunbeam struggled to survive the Depression of the Thirties; in 1934 after a string of financial losses the company was sold to the Rootes Group, one of the first massive automotive conglomerates which already counted Hillman, Humber and Singer among its brands.  Seeing the way the market was going Rootes repositioned Sunbeam as more of an everyman's car, combining it with the Talbot nameplate to create Sunbeam-Talbot, a situation that lasted until the mid-1950s when the Talbot name was dropped and Sunbeam began making sports cars such as the Alpine and Tiger.

source - V&P Classic Cars

Sadly the decline of Sunbeam began shortly thereafter in the 1960s; over the following 20 years the company was sold to Chrysler Europe (who reintroduced the Talbot sub-brand), before being passed on to Peugeot who eventually pulled the plug on both brands in 1981.  But it is Sunbeam's glory days of the 1920s that we are concerned with here and this 20/60 Super Sports DHC from the middle of that decade is fully deserving of Bertie's attention.

Bertie Wooster's "Widgeon"

The only other car to get a name check in the Jeeves books is in Thank You, Jeeves, where Bertie is noted as driving a "Widgeon Seven".  This is definitely a fictitious vehicle (and nothing to do with his friend and fellow Drones Club member Freddie Widgeon) but is most likely to be based on the Austin 7, that brand's ubiquitous small runabout.  I won't go into the history of the Austin brand here (I've already gone on long enough about Sunbeam) and it is unclear why Plum felt it necessary to change the name (if indeed that's what he did) unless he thought - as has been suggested by Wodehouse scholars - that an Austin was somewhat beneath the likes of the moneyed Bertie.  While this may be true of the standard saloon and convertible models, again - like many cars of its time - the Seven was available in a multitude of bodystyles and its cheap asking price and simple, lightweight mechanicals made it popular as an everyday racer with a number being produced in quite sporty designs.  It's entirely possible that one of these could have appealed to Bertie and this may be what Wodehouse was thinking of when he was writing Thank You, Jeeves.

1933 Austin 7 Nippy 2-Seater Sport
source - Wikimedia Commons 

The most sporting of the Sevens were the two-seater Sports models with such wonderful pre-war names like Nippy (Brum, anyone?), Speedy, Brooklands and Ulster - the latter two taken from those models' many successes at the Ards racing circuit in Northern Ireland and at Brooklands in Surrey - and once again one can readily imagine Bertie and Jeeves whizzing along the country roads of England or around the back roads of Mayfair in just such a car.

1925 Austin Seven Super Sports
source - Car and Classic

Surviving examples of Austin 7 Sports variants are also thin on the ground these days; although perhaps not quite so rare as the Sunbeam, with prices starting at around £25,000 for a decent rebuild replica (a modern-build body on an original chassis) rising to £40k for an original Brooklands.  Definitely the best way into owning a set of Wooster wheels considering the prices of Sunbeams and Aston Martins!

source - Pinterest

Captain Hastings' "Elisio Freccia"

Right, on to Captain Hastings and his "other" car now (don't worry, we're nearly at the end!).  Our hero had always been very faithful to his beloved Lagonda so it came as something of a surprise to learn that in The Adventure of the Italian Nobleman he was seriously considering exchanging it for an "Elisio Freccia"!  "Considering" is the right term, too, seeing as he seemed to spend the first half of the episode vacillating over writing the cheque ("I've got it marked in my diary.  It says 'decide about car.'").

Once again the "Elisio Freccia" is a made-up vehicle and not a real make or model, but the car it is based on is certainly one of the most beautiful and rarefied Italian sports cars of the interwar period - the 1935 Alfa Romeo 8C 2900.

1936 Alfa Romeo 8C 2900A Spider
source - Ultimatecarpage.com 

source - IMCDb / Auto Motor Klassiek

The 8C traces its lineage back to the 2300 model of 1931, which was a pure-bred racing car designed for the famous Italian road race the Mille Miglia.  A few two-seaters were produced for sale to the public, as well as single seater Grand Prix types (known as P3 Monopostos) which were entered in the 1932 Italian GP.  In the following years the model was refined as the 2600 in 1933 and subsequently the 2900 in 1935, which is precisely when Captain Hastings comes in as the 8C 2900A was first shown and advertised for sale at the 1935 London Motor Show.  I can just see the good Captain being in attendance and having his eye drawn by this racy Italian beauty, albeit as the fictional "Elisio Freccia".  I can understand his reluctance to part with the cheque, though, seeing as the asking price for an Alfa Romeo 2300 in 1931 was over £1,000 (£70k in today's money).  Having said that he'd be even less likely to spend out on one today - a 1937 8C 2900B selling for a breathtaking $4 million back in 1999, the result of only 33 such models ever having been produced.

In the event, though, our favourite chap ends up keeping his trusty Lagonda after stuffing "his" Elisio Freccia into the villain's Vauxhall (have no fear, though - no priceless classic cars were injured in the making of this film, a jerry-built mock-up being used for the final crash scene) following what has to be the greatest chase scene in the history of film.  Never mind Bullitt, Ronin and all the rest, Hastings' heroics has everything - a flock of geese, broken crockery, a charabanc full of old ladies, not to mention his fantastic finishing move!

"You SWINE!  That's for Miss Lemon!"
source - Pinterest

So there we have it, then - our two top chaps and three more of their favourite voitures.  I hope you've enjoyed reading this post as much as I have writing it (if you've made it this far); it's even given me an idea for a series of blog posts based around the cars of fictional detectives and literary characters (bearing in mind how well - or not! - I get on with series posts), continuing with Margery Allingham's Albert Campion and Dorothy L. Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey.  Until then we can carry on delighting in the supreme Thirties motoring that these two splendid coves continue to afford us.

It's not a dream, it's Captain Hastings!

Yes, he's back again!!

Now that I've returned to blogging on a regular basis I feel ready to resurrect one of my favourite series of recurrent posts - the fashions and foibles of Captain Arthur Hastings, as played by Hugh Fraser in the excellent TV series Agatha Christie's Poirot.  Judging by this blog's stats page and the number of comments I've received over the years posts featuring the good Captain are well-liked by you the reader too so, by overwhelmingly popular demand, we return now to the adventures of Captain Hastings!

I covered Hastings's all too-brief appearance in The Big Four when it first aired in 2013 and although I have received requests to do Curtain next I have only just come to terms with what happened in that episode and the fact that it was the series finale(!).  More to the point I don't actually have it to hand to screencap at the moment, my Poirot DVD box set being an older edition only going up to series 10 (which is fine by me since Captain Hastings - plus Miss Lemon and Inspector Japp - don't appear after series 8 and the episodes from that point onward veer too much towards the darker end of the spectrum for my taste).  I will keep a lookout for Curtain - it is bound to be repeated on ITV3 at some point - with a view to featuring it on here later.  In the meantime we return to the early days and the next chronological episode to feature our favourite chap, which, it having been so long since I've done one of these, is the series 1 episode (so still lots more to come, hurrah!) The Dream.  Anyway, enough waffling from me - we want Hastings!

In this long shot we can just make out his splendid-looking half-belted sports
jacket and, what is that Miss Lemon's wearing?  Could it be...?

Yes, it's that ruddy bow cardigan again that started it all.  Never mind that, though,
we're here for Captain Hastings and he doesn't disappoint.  One of his best outfits
so far, in fact - a wonderful combination.  Shirt, tie, cardigan, jacket - it all works.

There's so much going on actually that one caption isn't enough to do it justice, so I'll add my thoughts to this outfit here.   I love the blue, red and cream check of the cardigan (which gets further outings in future episodes, so watch this space!), set off against the splendid colours of the striped tie and finished off by the understated grey sports jacket.  Then there's the shirt with its small, understated spearpoint collar and - a nice touch - working single cuffs with cufflinks.  In short, the archetypal 1930s look and one every right-thinking chap should - and could - aim for.  On the subject of cuffs I've encountered conflicting opinions over the years, the general consensus in my experience being that double (or French) cuffs are more formal and therefore more representative of the period, while single cuffs are more informal (except when worn starched with formal evening wear) and the preserve of country attire.  But then I see things like this - Hastings rocking the single cuffs with links - and I begin to see things in a different light.  What we're looking at here is a typical Thirties informal look, so single cuffs are perfectly acceptable especially when set off with a pair of cufflinks.  The trouble is single cuff shirts with the facility for links (as opposed to just button fastenings) can be hard to come by these days.  The only one in my wardrobe is a rather summery Bengal striped number from Peter Christian; other modern makers such as Savile Row Co. also offer the facility for cufflinks with single cuffs, otherwise you're looking at the more "period" suppliers like Darcy Clothing or Revival Vintage.  That's enough about shirt cuffs though - back to the action!

A nice close-up of the jacket, collar and tie combo.

We open the scene with Hastings helping Miss Lemon with the morning mail.  Our man is amused and intrigued by an offer of 'Home Phit' ("That's funny - 'Phit' spelt with a 'ph'".) leather shoes; sadly we never find out if he avails himself of a pair.  Miss Lemon is unamused by the antics of her typewriter - left in the flat by a previous tenant, much to the delight of the thrifty Poirot - which keeps jamming (and am I the only one who constantly mishears her annoyed and terse exclamation of "Bother!" as something rather stronger?!).

Something for the typewriter fans as well - can you identify the recalcitrant model
from this picture (all will be revealed at the end of this post)?  (Note we also get to
see Poirot's full address and telephone number courtesy of this shot.)

The next letter is from a Hugo Cornworthy, private secretary to noted industrialist and pie-maker Benedict Farley, requesting that Poirot comes to his offices so that he may consult him.  The Farley's Food factory is of course in reality the Hoover Building, which has featured on this blog before (and also in the previous episode as the "Parade" film studio - the production company must have done some back-to-back filming there, I think!  As an aside, someone once told me that all the exterior shots of Florin Court (aka Whitehaven Mansions) were done over the course of one long weekend and then simply interspersed throughout every episode, but I cannot vouch for the veracity of that.).

Even in the dark our man's style stands out like a beacon of rightness.  Hat,
belted coat with effortlessly turned-up collar and scarf - oh yes, he's back all right.

No-one pulls off the turned-up collar look better than our Captain Hastings.
The muted earth tones of the scarf set off nicely against the coat, hat and gloves.

Hastings (and Poroit, to be fair) is disappointed to be told that the invitation does not extend to him, so it's back to the car to wait for Poirot to come out.  Poor old Hastings!

Back at the flat the next morning and Miss Lemon takes Poirot to task over the troublesome typewriter, backed up by the good Captain.

A better look at that wonderful knitted waistcoat and, just for the girls, Miss
Lemon's delightful emerald green dress with contrasting asymmetric collar/cuffs
(fellow blogger Porcelina has previously looked at the other fashions in this episode). 

Needless to say it isn't long before there's a corpse to deal with but in the following days Poirot is unable to get a grip on the case, much to his frustration.  Hastings helps out by doing the crossword.

Just as Miss Lemon's bow cardigan is a wardrobe staple in early episodes, so too
is Hastings' grey Prince of Wales check suit it seems. 

When Poirot starts to lament that his little grey cells are dying due to too much "fast living" Hastings is there to (sceptically) comfort him.

Thanks to a second tisane and Miss Lemon nearly breaking her neck looking out the window to check the time Poirot has an epiphany and he and Hastings dash off to Farley's Foods to unmask the murderer.

I do love how a simple change of tie can completely reinvigorate the ubiquitous
PoW three-piece.

Poirot's theory requires Hastings' assistance in quite an exciting manner - our hero is about to swing into action!

While Poirot gathers everyone together for the classic dénouement, Hastings waits for his moment:

The green tie sets off nicely against the grey of his suit.

"The name's Hastings.  Arthur Hastings."  Seriously, why hasn't somebody in the
Poirot fanfic community done this?!  I  may have to do something about it myself...

Single cuffs with links again and a smashing rectangular Thirties wristwatch as our
hero takes aim.

Hastings really does have a lot to do in this episode.  Having so ably helped Poirot to prove his theory, the killer is unmasked and makes a bolt for it (WARNING: if you haven't seen this episode - then what's wrong with you?! - here be spoilers) but once again everyone's favourite chap is on the case.

Alas after what must have been a bruising struggle down a marble staircase, the villain escapes our man's clutches and dashes out into the factory grounds.  Kudos at this point must go to the character of  Herbert, the fiancée of Farley's daughter (Joely Richardson), who turns up on motorcycle and sidecar - suitably dressed in full flying leathers, goggles and scarf - intending to elope but who instead is just in time to chase the murderer down in dramatic fashion.  Captain Hastings would be impressed!

With the case solved it's back to business as usual at Poirot's flat.  Miss Lemon is still battling with the typer when Poirot arrives bearing a suspiciously typewriter-shaped box.

I do love Poirot's expressions in this episode.  One can never get enough of Hastings'
suit, either.  I'm beginning to understand the obsession with that bow cardigan now.

I promised you a closer look at the troublesome typewriter.  Yes, it's an Underwood,
and given its back story, the period setting and four-bar keyboard I'm going with it
being a Number 5.  Would you agree?

You'll have to watch the episode to see if Miss Lemon does finally get a new typewriter out of Poirot(!).  This has turned into quite a monster post - whew!  Well done if you've made it this far but, well, you did ask for it (and I'd forgotten how much I enjoy composing them).  For now we'll finish with a few more gratuitous shots of Captain Hastings and his superlative three-piece suit as we bid farewell to him, Poirot and Miss Lemon until the next time, when we'll return to find them in - Peril at End House.

On the road with Bertie Wooster and Captain Hastings

I rather fancy it's time for another Captain Hastings/Style Icon post, but this time with a twist!  I think that, by way of a change, I might focus less on the chaps and more on their cars.   Two chaps and their chariots of choice in fact!  Not just Captain Hastings and his voiture but also the equally arch-Chap Bertie Wooster, as portrayed by Hugh Laurie in Granada TV’s 1990-93 adaptation of P.G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves stories, Jeeves & Wooster (with Stephen Fry as Jeeves, of course!). Both these fine fellows happen to share the same taste in motors, driving cars that perfectly complement their personalities and which share a striking commonality with themselves and the characters who drive them.  The cars in question: the comparable Aston Martin and Lagonda.

Bertie Wooster’s Aston Martin

Wodehouse in his AC 12hp Tourer, outside Hunstanton Hall,
Norfolk, in 1928

To my certain knowledge P.G. Wodehouse never specified the make and model of car preferred by Bertram Wilberforce Wooster. As narrator, Bertie refers to it only as the “old two-seater” or “sports model”. This at least gives the reader carte blanche to imagine any two-seat sports car from the 1920s - although the BBC rather missed the point in their 1965-67 adaptation The World of Wooster, Ian Carmichael’s Bertie Wooster driving a four-seat 1927 Bentley 3-litre. Wodehouse himself owned an early-‘20s AC 12hp two-seater and one can easily see Bertie and Jeeves pootling along to Totleigh Towers or Brinkley Court in just such a model - I wouldn't be surprised if Wodehouse had it (or one of the many sporting cars favoured by the young "drones" of 1920s London) in mind whilst sat at his typewriter tapping out the stories.

In the event, though, the Jeeves & Wooster series went for an Aston Martin instead.  A 1928 Aston Martin 1½-litre International, to be precise.  An inspired choice, since it suits his youthful and excitable character perfectly.

source

Long before Aston Martin became inextricably (and, some might say, tiresomely) linked to James Bond, the company had already built up a strong sporting pedigree pre- the Second World War.  Founded in 1913 (and therefore having recently celebrated its centenary) as Bamford & Martin after owners Robert Bamford and Lionel Martin, their first cars had early successes on the hillclimbing course at Aston Clinton in Buckinghamshire - hence they were renamed Aston Martin (the story further has it that Mrs Martin encouraged the rebranding on the basis that the new name would be near the top of any business listings!).

source

Astons would go on to race at Brooklands and Le Mans throughout the '20s and '30s, setting many endurance records.  Even Bertie's 1½-litre International had a "Le Mans" variant, although one can't imagine him tearing round La Sarthe (then again... maybe there's a story there!  Bertie did in fact drive his car into the ground attempting to beat the train to Deverill Hall in the fourth episode of series three).

Indeed Bertie remains blissfully ignorant of the inner workings of the motor car, knowing only that it runs on something called petrol but not that it has something called an "engine".  These things are best left to Jeeves or the local mechanic, naturally!

source

The 1½-litre International was produced between 1928 and 1932, a very prosperous time for Aston Martin following some lean years and the departure of its founders in the early '20s.  A group of skilled engineers and investors (including the wonderfully Wodehousian-sounding Lady Charnwood) had taken over the ailing company in 1926 and went on to oversee production of some of the most quintessentially British cars of the inter-war era including the 1½-litre, the 1934 MkII "Ulster" and the 1936 2-litre "Speed" model.

Aston Martin 1½-litre MkII

You can just imagine Bertie hearing about this wonderful sporting car company from his chums at The Drones Club and then heading off to the dealer to place his order.  Today you'd still have to be a Bertie Wooster to be able to afford an Aston Martin old or new; 1½-litre cars from the Thirties regularly fetch in the region of £150,000 now - as much or more than most modern Astons!  Certainly Bertie wouldn't be seen dead in the modern equivalent suggested by the Telegraph - a Mini Roadster indeed!  Choh!

source
This 1934 1½-litre Sports model sold last year for £155,500 at a Bonhams auction.

Captain Hastings' Lagonda

Here's the car we all know and love - the incidental yet important player in many a Poirot mystery, whisking our heroes to and from the crime scene.  How many times have we seen it bring some light relief to the proceedings as our favourite chap Captain Hastings talks about it, works on it or just drives it?

As with P.G. Wodehouse, Agatha Christie never mentions the type of car Hastings drives in the books - mainly because he only appeared in eight of the stories and Christie was no doubt more concerned with getting the plot and motive down properly.  It's thanks, as ever, to the expansion of the character in the TV series that we can really enjoy Hastings' hobbies and adventures, especially with his car.  Thus it was that the show's producers gave him one of the ultimate gentleman's cars of the 1930s - a 1931 Lagonda 2-litre Low Chassis Tourer.

Lagonda was founded in 1906 at a time when many companies were setting up to produce the new-fangled motor car, including the likes of Rolls-Royce.  As with so many of its peers it became favoured by the Edwardian aristocracy and increased its reputation through motorsport success, in particular in the 1910 Moscow-St. Petersburg race.  After the First World War it continued to do well; Captain Hastings' beloved 2-litre Speed selling for eight years from 1925 to 1933.  The company faltered in 1935, however and was nearly bought out by Rolls-Royce until another buyer - Alan Good - intervened.  By this time Rolls-Royce had also taken over Bentley and Good was able to poach the man himself - W.O - to work for Lagonda, who designed a new 2.6-litre straight-6-cylinder engine that would remain the backbone of the business well into the 1950s and end up having great ramifications for the future of the company. 

Where would we be without Captain Hastings and his lovely Lagonda, eh?  Where would Poirot be?  Stuck in his flat, that's what - there's only so many taxis he can take after all. Who can forget it breaking down in The Adventure of Johnnie Waverly, or chasing after Mrs Daniels in The Adventure of The Missing Prime Minister?  We'd never get to see half of Hastings' smashing wardrove either, not least his superlative driving outfit.  I still can't believe he nearly chopped it in for an Alfa Romeo (all right, a fictional "Eliso Freccia") in The Adventure of The Italian Nobleman.

I've often wondered where Captain Hastings gets his income from to afford such a car as a Lagonda.  He was The Honourable Arthur Hastings, if I recall aright, so there's probably money and a family estate somewhere.  You'd need to be the son of a viscount or earl to afford one of Captain Hastings' Lagondas today, with good examples going for over £90,000.

Aston Martin plans to build Lagonda saloon, reports say

It may not be long before you can buy a brand new Lagonda again, though, if the latest rumours are anything to go by.  Aston Martin - who bought Lagonda in 1947 purely to get hold of the Bentley engine - have been toying with the idea of reviving the Lagonda brand for several years (its last appearance being on the futuristic Aston Martin Lagonda saloon in 1976).  Thankfully the initial idea to use it on a breezeblock of a 4x4 has been rejected and photos of the new saloon look very promising.  Definitely something I could see Captain Hastings driving around in!

Two top chaps, then, linked by their motors (although one can imagine them hitting it off quite well, too!).  While we may never be able to return to the heyday of pre-war British motoring, Bertie Wooster and Captain Hastings will forever be shining of examples of the Thirties gentleman driver.

**If you enjoyed this post keep your eyes peeled for more of the same in the next issue of In Retrospect, due for æthereal publication on the 1st July!**