Background
Peter Kirwan-Taylor was a Cambridge graduate, a champion skier, a chartered accountant, an accomplished artist, a Lieutenant in the SAS, a Hong Kong merchant banker….and the design stylist of the Lotus Elite.
But there’s something perhaps even more extraordinary hidden in his stellar CV.
He was also the design stylist of an exceptionally rare, fibreglass-bodied Citroën, based on the mechanicals of the 2CV, and built exclusively for the British market on a trading estate in Slough.
No, really.
The Citroën Bijou was assembled from 1959 until 1964. A total of 211 cars were produced.
It was built to appeal to a demographic which, it subsequently became obvious, didn’t really exist.
Amazingly, there wasn’t much demand in the home counties for a slightly more refined, but even slower version of a French farmers’ car that was much more expensive than comparable offerings such as the Austin Mini.
It incorporated some components from the 2CV, notably the two-cylinder 425 cc 12 bhp engine and its advanced, independent front-to-rear interconnected suspension. Other ideas, such as the futuristic single-spoke steering wheel, were borrowed from the DS.
Was there any method in the madness? Well, yes, as a contemporary report in Automobile Engineer magazine attempted to explain.
“Rather than compete with well-established, mass-produced family cars, it was decided to produce a vehicle to appeal to a narrower but more discriminating market. In particular, there was thought to be a market for a small, high-quality, long-lasting vehicle as a second car in families already owning a larger one. Used for shopping and local motoring, such a vehicle would not need full family accommodation or high power.
It should require only a minimum of maintenance and attention and be capable of resisting deterioration without the protection of a second garage. In both these aspects, the air-cooled engine and simple chassis design are advantages. The problem of outdoor storage could be met by the use of a non-rusting, non-corrodible body.”
So, there you have it.
Despite (or possibly because of) its commercial failure at the time, the car soon acquired cult status among discerning afficionados of automotive esoterica and exotica.
Not least because it is, undeniably, possessed of lavish amounts of quirkiness and charm.
Today, they are as rare as teeth on a particularly endangered breed of hen.
You’ll be waiting a very long time (probably for ever, in fact) to find a better example than this full-rotisserie restoration example that is showroom-fresh in virtually every respect.







