Check ma grillz
Putting the weird name aside — apparently the name of some tribe wandering about Iran — I love, love, love my Qashqai; and if you try come take it away from me, I’m sorry but I cannot be held responsible for my actions.
Now you’ve have had your warning, we can get on with the review.
The Nissan Qashqai has some set of “urban credentials” also known as Baws in Glasgow. It is a big beefy boy, but one that likes a bit of lipstick, silk underwear and a bottle of poppers at the weekend. This fruity figure of a man (still talking about the Qashqai here) has the exterior of the Royal British Guard standing in front of Buckingham Palace. Highly polished, stiff upper lip and a big furry hat. This car screams “Yeah I’m not as scary when I’m described that way, but fuck with me and I’ll have your scrotum for a change purse”. This car will give even the most feminine of drivers some great big hairy space hopper balls. The road my friend; is yours.
We have been lucky enough to have some snow in this old Country of ours lately and this is where the Quasqai really let me down. Could I have had a duvet day? No chance, the bloody thing held the road no problem and I ended up in work on time every day of the lovely white conditions. Nipping through town? No probs, switch on the 2 wheel drive and you can nip in and out the gridlock like a Smart Car.
Inside the Quasqai is comfortable, no luxurious; no… imagine the best damned VIP area without the booze and hard drugs, that’s how lush this car is. You have all the James Bond gadgetry at your finger tips. Connect your phone to the car for hand free dirty phone calls. Never bump into the bollard at Tesco again with the beepy beep-beep reverse assistance. Bollocks to Radio 1, a 6 CD changer is integrated via the dash and steering wheel. See what I mean about Lush?
So would I buy one of these city 4×4s. If you had asked me 6 months ago I would have went on about Chelsea tractors and fur coat no knickers Mums dropping off a solitary sprog at school before her morning and afternoon of cheap chardonnay and knee trembling spin cycles. But now I have one, I don’t want to go back to dodgem style cars like a Punto or God forbid a Sex in the City Mini. I’ve been spoiled. You cannot paint dogs’ bollocks in the finest filet mignon and expect him not to lick.
Annnd. I remember thinking this was one of the coolest adverts on the clever box, and now Im driving one of these. If only I was a giant who could kick flip!
