Scandi crush: Volvo V90 D5 Powerpulse Inscription

Looks are everything with this Volvo.

Delightful until you start the engine: the Volvo V90 D5 Powerpulse Inscription.

In the old days, if you were a bad driver you bought a Volvo because at least you’d escape fairly unscathed from the accident you were going to have. And other road users knew to treat you with caution: if you were indicating left, the only thing they knew for sure was that you were not about to turn left.

Recently, however, Volvo decided to overhaul its image by sponsoring gloomy, cool, blue-hued Scandi dramas on television. The message was clear: Volvos are for people who want peace and quiet; people who like their TV detectives to wear a jumper rather than a Swat outfit. And once this had been established, Volvo had to make some cars to fit the image they’d created on television. It’s an odd way of doing things, but no matter, because the first of those cars is now with us. It’s called the V90 and, ooh, it’s good-looking. Really, really good-looking.

Then you step inside and, frankly, you’re going to get straight back out again and sign on the dotted line. Because this side of a Rolls-Royce Phantom you’ll find no finer car interior. The combination of wood, aluminium and leather is sublime, and the way it all works is even better. Just about everything is controlled by what is essentially an upended iPad. This means there are very few buttons or knobs on the dash, which makes it more calm and relaxing. It’s like being inside Sarah Lund’s mood room.

My sister once asked why it always feels, in any car, as if you’re sitting inside a man’s wash bag, and she has a point. They’re normally black and dark and enlivened only by some red stripes. Well, the Volvo’s not like that at all. It’s light and airy, and as a result it’s a lovely and delightful place to sit.

However, at some point you’re going to stop sitting there, feeling at one with the world, and start the engine, and straight away things are going to unravel. There will be a petrol hybrid in the fullness of time, but for now you have a choice of a 2-litre diesel or another 2-litre diesel.

The 2-litre diesel in my test car was the more powerful of the two, fitted with twin turbochargers along with a compressed air cylinder that shoots air into the engine when you demand more power. This sounds very clever and it certainly reduces turbo lag. But there’s no getting around the fact that this is a very big car and it’s being moved about by a 2-litre diesel. An engine of this size works fine in a Golf or a leaf blower, but it really doesn’t work at all in the V90. It clatters when it’s cold and constantly sounds like it’s working its arse off, even when cruising on the motorway. Couple this to a dim-witted eight-speed automatic that occasionally suffers from dementia and can’t remember what it’s supposed to be doing, and you have a car that is not remotely exciting, or even pleasant, to drive.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. Some people won’t notice because they’ll be so delighted by the car’s mouse-like thirst for fuel and the tiny number of carbon dioxides coming out of the tailpipe. They will also be delighted by all the safety features that make the Volvo virtually uncrashable. They’re also going to like the comfort: it’s not a soft-riding car, but the body movement is very well controlled.

They’ll be disappointed when they try to put something big in the boot, however. Because there’s no getting round the fact that there’s a price to pay for those lovely lines, and the price is: even a Skoda Superb has more interior space. So do the equivalent offerings from Audi, Mercedes and BMW.

Though when I say “equivalent”, what I mean is “cheaper”. I was staggered to see that the car I tested, with a few options fitted, cost about $91,000 [the Australian price won’t be confirmed until the car becomes available here, probably next month]. That, for a 2-litre diesel, is ridiculous.

And it will seem especially ridiculous when you wake one day to find that you are banned from the town centre or made to pay more for your parking space. Draconian anti-diesel measures are in place or are being planned in various European cities; how long before that spreads around the world?

Right now, I certainly wouldn’t buy a car powered by the dirty work of Dr Diesel. Which means I wouldn’t buy the Volvo. When the petrol hybrid comes along, it may be a different story, but if the 2-litre diesel costs around 90 grand, the hybrid will probably cost more than a stealth bomber. Which means I probably wouldn’t buy that either.

FAST FACTS VOLVO V90 D5 POWERPULSE INSCRIPTION

ENGINE: 2.0-litre turbodiesel (173kW/480Nm).

AVERAGE FUEL: 4.1 litres per 100km

TRANSMISSION: Eight-speed automatic, all-wheel drive

PRICE: £43,850; Australian price TBA

RATING: 2 stars