All of your readers must know that British Leyland is the last outpost of the All British Production Car.
They will then, no doubt, he as concerned as I am to see that the proposed mighty Empire has been brought to its knees.
Assailed from all quarters, by Mr. Heath’s three-day week, Mr. Wilson’s savage increases in the cost of steel, power and petrol, and a Trotskyist-inspired strike, Lord Stokes continues to smile at us from the news television screen, but it is clear that the patient is far from well.
Despite the fact that British Leyland made a good profit last year, already it has made a £16,000,000 loss for the first quarter of 1974. On Saturday, May 4th, the shares were down 1/4 to 12.3/4, from a 1974 high of 21.1/4, and the company is running a massive overdraft.
If, then, this Trotskyist-inspired strike continues to bleed British Leyland white, and Lord Stokes promises of continuation come to nought, Harold Wilson, and his bunch of forty thieves will then have the chance to rise Phoenix-like from the ashes, and like an avenging angel (Deus ex machina) thrust his Sword of Nationalisation into the heart of the British Motor Industry, smirking all the while, and giving hint the opportunity to say, “The British Motor Industry could never have survived without a Labour Government”. Rather like an undertaker murdering people to make business pick up.
If, and I say IF, this state of affairs does come about I sincerely hope that Lord Stokes would sell out to General Motors rather than have a Government who, like our Town Hall, take a great deal of our money in local rates, spend it all, and give very little in return.
Mrs. Castle would then be in her element producing one-cylinder, two-speed, 45-m.p.h. top-speed Bureaucratic Specials. The Cabinet Ministers, and Police, would continue to drive £6,000 cars, of course, thus enabling them to catch even more motorists, raid newsagent’s shops, or generally waste even more of our money. You know it makes sense.
We have all suffered a miserable winter: How good therefore to see Motor Sport casting off this blanket of gloom and go out testing a feast of “dirty, filthy, rich Capitalist luxury automobiles” (where is the Corniche and Corvette?). I am so pleased to see that you have retained your sense of humour and freedom. Well done.
Hemel Hempstead M. G. C. Potter