PETER HITCHENS: I have been noticing worrying signs about King Charles

I think King Charles must be a secret petrolhead, much more like the dreaded, goggled maniac motorist Mr Toad than the gentle plant-loving nostalgist he seems to be at first sight. What else can explain his horrible, needless decision to scrap the royal train? The instruction saves almost no money, is poorly justified and is a brutal blow at the environment he claims to love so much. Trains, as we shall see, are a million times greener than cars and, as for helicopters and private jets, these things – which have survived the King’s cuts – are not green at all, even if they run on old bits of cheese and cooking oil.

Remember that the late Queen gave him an Aston Martin, in ‘Seychelles Blue’ for his 21st Birthday in 1969. He still has it, though it now runs on biofuel made from wine, cheese... and unleaded petrol. Maybe that explains the rich, evocative whiff of old-fashioned fuel, which I sniffed a few months ago as I walked past the Royal Bentley near the gates of Clarence House, the King’s London home.

His favourite vintage Aston Martin is a typical pointless show-off machine, quite unfitted for real life and related to the absurd, pretentious plutocrat cars that make London nights hideous with their mechanical burps and rumbles and screaming tyres.