Our Cars: McLaren Artura

In English it is called epicaricacy, a word so rarely used that the spell check on this computer doesn’t even recognise it. Oddly enough, you’re more likely to know its German equivalent, for they call it schadenfreude. Either way, it means the same: to derive pleasure from the misfortunes of others.

And I’ve never known a car to attract so much of it. ‘Gone wrong yet?’ friends, relatives and people I meet in petrol stations say when they see me in it, and you can see the hope in their eyes. I don’t think they actually wish ill on McLaren in general or the Artura in particular; maybe they’re just hoping for an amusing litany of faults and failures for me to report because it fits their pre-conceptions of the brand.

So I’m sorry to disappoint, but you’re all bang out of luck. Despite its all-new engine, tub, suspension, hybrid system and an electrical architecture so advanced I can’t even pretend to understand it, it’s not put a tyre block wrong.