Mercedes-Benz E-Class

Set it beside the S-Class and be honest about it: what decides the matter is how long you sit there, not what the badge says. Inside an hour, ask most passengers to name what the flagship adds and they will manage a stretch of legroom and a marginally deeper hush. Longer than that and the gap widens, because the reclining rear seat and thicker glazing of the bigger saloon start doing real work. Say your day is a run to Heathrow and a run home again. Then the E-Class is no compromise at all. It is the right answer.

Two large cases and two cabin bags: that is a truthful figure, not a hopeful one. Shape matters as much as volume in a boot like this. Hard-shell cases stack neatly enough, whereas a golf bag, a cello or a pushchair on a fixed frame simply will not. Where every saloon gives up is three passengers with a large case each, since the third case ends up riding on somebody's lap. Tell us what you are genuinely carrying. We will say plainly whether it goes in.

In a city, nothing else we arrange is this easy to live with. Door apertures are cut so that most passengers step out instead of climbing out, the sill meets you at a natural height, and the car turns in a single movement on a Chelsea side street or drops down into the low-ceilinged car park beneath a City office. Two hours in, mind you, a seat that felt faultless at the start begins asking to be adjusted. That is your cue to look further up the range.