The Little Car Company Bentley Blower Jnr review

Very possibly the ultimate toy car. What we have here is a hand-built, 85 per cent scale replica of the supercharged Bentley ‘Blower’ Le Mans racing car of the late 1920s. It’s an approved, authentic, fully operational electric homage to real-life unobtanium. Bentley let Oxfordshire’s Little Car Company scan its prized Blower (value: £25 million) to guarantee millimetre-accuracy.

Doesn’t look very ‘little’. Unless you’re two-feet tall.

All a matter of perspective, old bean. It is indeed a lot smaller than the original Blower, which is the sort of thing which led rival Ettore Bugatti to brand Bentleys as ‘the fastest lorries in the world.’ But this is by no means a Hot Wheels toy. It’s 3.5 metres long and weighs more than half a tonne. It’d dwarf a Caterham if you ever parked alongside a Seven. TLCC has at least taken advantage of that upscaling to fit in a second seat, in tandem formation, so your best mate can join in.

Why is The Little Car Company making big cars?

We suspect that the billionaires buying their children Testa Rossa Juniors and Baby Bugattis were getting a tad cheesed off about the kids having all the fun, and wanted something a grown-up could easily climb into. And by registering it as a quadricycle, it can wear number plates, and venture into the big bad world.

It’s only the second ‘Little’ Car to be road legal, after the Tamiya Wild One buggy. And that’s much more fun off-road. The Bentley has number plates and 65-mile range. It’ll maintain a 45mph cruise. It’s got seat belts and a reversing camera (mandated in the USA to stop Americans backing over their children). You could commute in this. Or moonlight as the world’s most caddish UberEats deliverer.

So we’ll be seeing them on London’s streets regularly?

Not likely: it costs a mighty £90,000. Plus tax. Plus delivery. Plus options, like livery, upholstery and trim. This is one of 99 First Editions, resplendent in British Racing Green with a quite beautiful engine-turned aluminium dashboard atop a carbon fibre tub. After the first 99 are shifted, you’ll be able to spec whatever colour you like. One customer has apparently demanded a bare carbon finish. Probably matches his bathtub.

This isn’t a car. It’s an industrial-strength joy-spreader. Because its scale messes with people’s perception – and the lack of noises befuddles them further – it draws quizzical looks, points and grins wherever it goes, without the sneer that follows many supercars.

As a car, it’s obviously flawed. There is no weather protection. It’s got a tiny boot, a cramped passenger seat and it won’t go anywhere very far away or very comfortably. But not a single soul who ever sets foot inside one of these Blower Jnrs will care two hoots for that trifling nonsense, because this is a joyous recreation of one of the world’s great historic cars, and it exists for no other reason than making people smile.