…talking of which, may I point you in the direction of this:
…a good read, although somewhat depressing! 
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Well born lack of confidence.
They don’t have “little interest” so much as ‘fail completely to recognise anyone else exists’. The school yard at my son’s old school was a sight to behold. Eventually they appointed car park marshalls.
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Umm
We have an SUV
But we live in the proper country
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Don’t have a problem where they are necessary*, but would wholeheartedly support their banning in town centres, where roads simply aren’t wide enough.
*Which also implies they have to be proper workhorses, not the posers’ toy ones.
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Ours is a workhorse for the rally job
And able to get up mountains and it is right for our back road/track
I hope that we can be forgiven having a scruffy suv
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One which is for a real reason is an honourable thing.
One which is for picking up Tristram and Mirella from their prep schools in the middle of town, not so much so.
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Or more likely:
“…picking up Tristram and Mirella from their prep schools about two minutes’ walk away in the middle of town”
Scruffy is a good sign. The problem is the pristine ones owned by gobshites for whom “off-road” extends only to their own driveway and at a pinch the Browne Thomas multi-storey.
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Is Isolde in detention ?
*this, as the kids say.
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…how much mud on those scruffy tyres??? 
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Sounds like a disease.
There’s a sodding huge SUV thingy that belongs to someone in our road. It gleams. It is utterly ridiculous. No need for it in Sarf Lunnon, ffs. No, I don’t know what sort it is - am fairly ‘car-blind’ - but this obtrudes itself on my attention, being more like a geographical feature than a mode of personal transport. (Actually, it might belong to the people whose cat I inadvertently stole. That would figure. They are howling gits.)
The Hummer always amused me, although purely for nominative reasons. I thought a great deal less of a friend who acquired one on their return to God’s Own Country (or the US, as we tend to call it).
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If we took the pressure washer to them we might find tyres under the mud!
Good Irish peat bog and cow farms type of mud!
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I did actually encounter this name a few years ago.
Poor child.
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Indeed. Some of that raw work which is often pulled at the font.
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Unless, of course, they happen to be Italian or Jewish
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They would still sound like a lurg to these slightly twisted ears, whatever their heritage.
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One at least sounds rather pleasant. Or as I am saddened to learn, sounded–she died on Monday
RIP Mirella Freni…
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You should hear what they do to the name in Bristol!
Seriously: it would be fine for an Italian or a Jew in the right area, but in Bristol it’s a bit like making a ten-year-old boy wear a kilt to parties because his name is Ian Douglas and his Grandfather came from Perth.
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In Newham, where road maintenance is apparently done by elves or similarly mythical creatures, perhaps slightly more so.
… in Australia.
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