Designers must regularly frequent a five-star hotel that has its sole sun lounger in a fenced-off recess under a small, sharp-edged flight of stairs. That, at least, is the only reason I can imagine to explain why the absurd access to the i8 was deemed tolerable.
A knack for graceful entrances and exits does gradually develop over time, but the i8’s doors still occasionally elicited a sigh – particularly on those nights when you’d traipse off a jam-packed train, into the car park and find it hemmed in by other cars.
Going to be using it regularly? Invest in some yoga classes to prepare yourself for when you need to post yourself through a tiny aperture to get into it.