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Mercedes-Benz AMG GT 4-door — long-term review
Drat! Someone has stolen our AMG's centre cap
B*llocks! One of the AMG’s centre caps has gone missing.
Now, I’m not sure whether it was the result of some enthusiastic cornering or an itchy-fingered scamp, but either way, the result has made my p*ss boil.
It’s amazing how the whole car’s classy nature has been tarnished because of a missing £49 part. But without this protective shield on, the Merc’s wheel nuts are hanging out, instantly making the classy 20-inch multispoke wheel look a bit silly – like going out to a black-tie dinner but forgetting to put on your trousers… while a testicle is hanging out of your pants.
Nowadays it’s rare for a centre cap to ping off, so I reckon it’s been pinched. So please keep your eyes peeled for some hoodlum with a Mercedes centre cap around their neck like Flavor Flav, as it’s probably ours.
Unfortunately, my urine’s temperature doesn’t get any less tepid from here on, as there’s something else that’s been irking me: the carpets. No, not their knot density counts or softness, but colour. Who in all honesty would spec cream carpets? Then black floor mats. Yes, a lovely cream interior looks fantastically luxurious but it just doesn’t work in the real world because in the real world there’s this thing called ‘mud’.
No matter how rich you are, or where you live, a British winter means that you get leaf mulch, muddy crud and brown puddle water on the bottom of your shoes. And, no matter how careful I am, swinging my lanky legs into the GT4 door or simply leaving my left foot to rest means that I instantly soil the carpet. It’s even worse in the back, where occupants get mud up the back of the cream seats, cream door card and scuff plate.
But the crème de la crème of crème carpetry insanity is the boot. The whole 456 litres is cloaked in the stuff which visually enhances the size but is an absolute nightmare to keep clean. Mainly because you tend to put mucky things in a boot; be it luggage you’ve dragged across a street or some outdoorsy activity device. And God forbid your shopping explodes on the way home – which isn’t an impossibility. See, the boot is so cavernous and the car so powerful (delivering 631bhp and 627lb ft from 2,500 to 4,500rpm) that your weekly shop can be fired around like a pinball resulting in a spaghettin tsunami. Luckily, Merc does supply a handy sports bra for your shopping so you can lash it down, but it only takes so much. Anything over a few days worth of Pot Noodles and you’ve just got to be super sensitive with the throttle. Which is easier said than done.