Bentley GT is a blistering beaut

And when the arguments start it's a good time to exit the pub, keys in hand, and to jump into the driver's seat of the great big GT, fire up the monstrous 12-cylinder, 6,0-litre engine and head for the hills.

And it won't take you very long to get far away rather rapidly because the Bentley GT is fast. Very fast. Like 0-100 km/h under five seconds fast. Like not far off 300 km/h un-governed top speed fast.

And it goes fast not in a histrionic thundering, screaming Ferrari or Porsche way of doing fast. Nope, the Bentley merely deepens its voice and launches off into the distance like a Japanese bullet train.

And the effortless way this huge three-tonner gobbles the tarmac is one of its most endearing qualities thanks mainly to an engine that few other marques can match for power and size.

For under its long, rather arrogantly aristocratic hood squats a highly sophisticated chunk of fine-tuned metal with four camshafts, 48-valves and twin turbochargers that muscles out 449 kW and 750 Nm, which the anoraks will tell you is equal to 600 bhp in traditional British Bentley car speak.

Not just speed

But the GT is not only about straight-line speed. Four-wheel drive, enormous wheels, nimble chassis and sharp steering add up to serious cling and, strangely enough, no noticeable understeer, as one would expect from this kind of set-up.

Nope, it handles like the blue-blooded Grand Tourer it is and through the corners it goes precisely in the direction you aim it at, even at scary speed.

And then there are the brakes. Talk about slamming into a brick wall. This car has the biggest brakes ever fitted to a standard road-going car and to halt proceedings you have to squeeze rather than stomp down on the brake pedal. And even then they are sharp enough to make it feel as though your seat-belt is going to slice you in half.

But make no mistake, this is not just a brag machine designed for awesome straight-line speeds and “look-at-me” boulevard cruising with a trophy blonde in the passenger seat.

It is a blistering, seriously impressive enthusiast's car capable of giving the finger to most Italian and German fast breeds.

Handsome

In terms of looks the Bentley is more regal than jaw-droppingly handsome, with neatly sculptured lines flowing back from its vast, gleaming radiator grille, along the sloping roof-line to its chunky hind quarters in the style of a classic coupe.

Impressive it certainly is, with a presence on par with royalty.

And talking about royalty, wait until you sit yourself down in the living quarters. What class, what comfort, what unstinting luxury. Huge British Gentleman's Club front seats, acres of leather, gleaming woodwork, and a warehouse load of shiny metal bits put the Continental GT way past First Class when it comes to style, eye-candy and creature comforts.

In spite of its size the GT is an easy car to drive, even in congested city streets. But where it shows its true colours is when you point its long bonnet towards the distant mountains.

In true Bentley tradition this is a superb long-distance cruiser. The ride is quiet and gentle with no intruding noises, incredibly comfortable without being wafting.

Clearly the British, oops, the Germans (I keep forgetting that Volkswagen now makes Bentley), have found the perfect balance between comfort and performance.

But alas, not everything about this extremely rich man's car is equally impressive.

Some drawbacks…

The dashboard switches, dials, knobs and gauges clearly come from the Volkswagen-Audi-Phaeton parts bin. Not that they are nasty. They just don't quite seem to fit in with the overall “feel” of the interior.

In terms of leg and bum space Bentley makes much of the fact that the GT is a comfortable four-seater. Hog wash. I squeezed into the back with some difficulty and struggled to make a rather ungainly exit. So did a few of my friends.

Like most coupes the GT's seats are for pigmies or shopping bags, not for big bellies and broad shoulders.

The boot is big enough to serve as a Boeing hangar. You could fit in all the blonde's Gucci bags, plus two golf bags and everything else you need for a week or two at Plett in there and still have room to spare.

The petrol tank is enormous and so it should be, for this GT is thirstier than a pub packed to the rafters with Bok supporters celebrating a victory by the men in green over the boys in black.

Thirsty work(er)

You can almost see the fuel gauge drop in tandem with the revs going into the red. My Sunday return drive from Hout Bay to Hermanus for lunch cost me almost as much for petrol as it did for the meal! And we were travelling leisurely, except for occasional brief overtaking bursts of right foot exercise.

But what is the Bentley really, British or German?

Clearly its DNA is British. Remember the Bentley Boys and their exploits? Remember the 1952 R-Type Continental which was the first four-seat coupe to touch on 200 km/h?

Well, the British flavours and the legacy of W.O. Bentley still permeates this upper-class chariot, even though fine British auto-building craftmanship was replaced some years ago by German precision engineering.

Be prepared to part with R3 million or more

And the lederhosen lads are doing a magnificent job with Bentley in general and with this Continental GT in particular.

As cars go it is quite spectacular. It's scorchingly fast and it's top-bracket when it comes to nose-in-the-air finish and snob appeal.

Yet, strangely enough, it's a car that you can admire and respect, but not the sort of car that you want to stroke and kiss and fall in love with.

Which brings me to the final, most painful part - the price.

Well, I cannot nail it down to final rands and cents, but to own one of these uberwagens will set you back a cool R3-million and some more, with the some more depending on the exchange rate when you sign on the dotted line.

But you can be fairly sure that it's going to be in the region of R200 000 or so over and above the Three Big Bars.

Is it worth it? Clearly it is to the growing band of Bentley-owners in this country. The rest of us can only but dream….

Now where did I put my Toyota keys?