50 days to save the world? Buy a Jag Gordon

By Steve Orme on Oct 27, 09 11:47 AM

The great thing about the climate debate is that there are so many 'truths' out there that, as in the glory days of off the peg high street tailoring, you will almost certainly find one to suit you.

Therefore this week Gordon Brown was able to tell the dolphin bothering community that he has 50 days to save the world and must get on immediately with wearing his underpants outside his trousers.

Being a socialist his route to a healthy atmosphere is likely to be taxation. It's the rich wot done it, guv, throw another Range Rover on the brazier.
Meanwhile in the Indian Ocean ministers of the Maldives are taking affirmative action by learning to hold cabinet meetings underwater, should their picturesque homelands slip silently beneath the waves.
I sense on opportunity here for our own politicians to bring the two aspects together by holding discussions on exciting new ways to screw the motorist at the bottom of the Thames. Sans aqualungs.
In America, home of fearless nu-think like preemptively bombing the moon and electing Borat as president, there emerges a wholly new take on how we broke the sky.
In Seattle two guys called Bud and Chuck, well actually Nathan Myhrvold and Ken Calderia but Bud and Chuck uses fewer keystrokes thus less precious energy, have a new idea.
We got it wrong when we started cleaning up the air.
They say it is not too much carbon dioxide but too little sulphur which lets the sun in and heats the world.
And just to prove they have their fingers on the scientific pulse Bud says Al Gore's green motive is: "To scare the crap out of people." Glad we cleared that one up
So, the clear answer is for us all to get out there and buy big diesel, prise the potentially costly and unreliable particulate filter off it and motor on to sulphur nirvana, which I believe is somewhere between Pontefract and Huddersfield
There was time when I would have preferred knee surgery using a blunt Jonathon Porritt to a diesel. But times have changed, something ably demonstrated by three-litre Jaguar's XF Sport.
I don't want to put you off reading any further but let me just say at the start, this is an astoundingly good diesel car.
For a start it is quick, 5.9 seconds to 60mph and has a totally meaningless top speed you will never attain.
Then there is the Dr Who factor with all manner of boyish thrills to be had from air vents which rotate out of the fascia and a slowly emerging centre console belly button for selecting the automatic gears. Complete, of course, with paddle shift sport setting.
Did I mention the luxury? Proper leather not some half-flayed cat skin, tasteful dark oak door inserts and blue interior mood lighting. Or the smoothness of the ride that you can turn into a high-powered, super grippy, rear wheel drive cat fight should the mood strike? The XF is about what cars were meant to not some half-a-horse lame attempt at excusing yourself from the feast.
Added to this is a frankly ridiculous equipment itinerary which, so it is said, if ever listed completely will herald the end of the universe. Enough to know that it has all the communications, climate and entertainment equipment expected, idiot proofing like park assist and pedestrian contact sensing, cornering brake control and emergency assist.
But it won't restitch the wellesphere according to the theory of Bud and Chuck. In fact it is a paragon, doing over 40mpg and releasing a moderate 179 carbons per kilometre
And, of course it is expensive, the S with options is £44,200. Meaning lots of tax to be paid which makes Gordon very happy. And that's the truth.