I never liked the cut of Donald Mackenzie’s jib. I’m not someone who is impressed by money, power or appearance. I judge people on their intelligence, their honesty, their good manners and other such old-fashioned things. A grouse moor, some guns, green wellies and a Land Rover do not make you an aristocrat. Just as a press pass does not make you a pork-pie hat wearing monster.
I am sure that Mackenzie oozes charm at dinner parties with his own kind, but I have always found him arrogant, rude, and disdainful, as only the newly-rich can be. His “well, you couldn’t possibly understand” attitude was a very clear sign that he was high on his own supply and, in the words of Shania Twain, “that don’t impress me much”. Good for him for being talented at making money, but I’m not ever going to praise what he did to Formula 1 and I am happy to apply my boot to the rear of his twill trousers to assist him towards the door marked “uscita”.
