I point out to them that the TT is actually a (deliciously) modified variant of the Pontiac GT6, but with a sexy roof jobby, and a European engine, as opposed to an american 27 ton, V34, 12Litre engine that puts out 4 brake weasel power and drinks 6 gallons of "gayas" per yard.
I educate them that we have something called a "diff-er-ential" and "shock absorbers", so you don't have to slow down to 5mph for a 20 degree bend. I also warn them that it has something called a "gear stick" that allows the driver to drive the car, instead of vice-versa.
Such foppish, dandy flibberty-jibbery as suspension, steering, cornering and road-handling are clearly beyond the grasp of our cotton-growing offshore cousins. If we were to let them loose on such space-age technology, they would almost certainly find themselves travelling sideways through the front of their local "Kentucky Fried MacWalMart R Us", or at the very least, choke on their chawin' baccy.
But, fellow Astra-nauts, these are not the over-riding reasons for keeping their obese mitts away from the noble TwinTop. It's not even that the seats are only wide enough for one standard congress-issue U.S. buttock.
As with many issues, the answer falls from the lips of a British paragon of tolerance and humility; one Mr J Clarkson.
As all of you know, a requirement of British Citizenship is (and I quote)
The Handbook of British Citizenship (Page 33, paragraph 9, section viii) wrote:
Upon witnessing a passing motorist driving a convertible vehicle with the roof down, one should form the index finger and thumb of one's right hand into a small circle. Said circle should be held at arms length and repeatedly raised and lowered to the accompanying cry of "Waaaaanker! You bloody waaaaaanker!"
The brave and fearless philosopher-poet Mr Clarkson memorably summarised the Sons of Uncle Sam thusly:
[quote]Americans. 300,000,000 ******** with no word for '***************
So there you have it. Handicapped by the vocabulary of an inebriate artard, the average septic tank lacks the ability to respond in a civilised manner to convertible drivers.
Makes you proud to be British, eh? [sniff]