British Leyland

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British Leyland was a British automobile conglomerate and a bottomless pit for subsidies, formed in 1968 by merging two dying companies. Socialist practices were so common here that even Gosplan wouldn’t be ashamed – factories stood somewhere near Birmingham, and production only took place when employees felt like working, which was almost never. Most of the time, they were on strike while the cars rusted right on the production line.

After being nationalized in 1975, the company went through several renamings and reorganizations, but the result was always the same – a pile of unsellable wrecks and an increasingly empty treasury. After an endless agony, the company transformed into yet another failed experiment in 1986, only to finally disappear in 2005. The remaining brands were sold off to the Germans, Indians, and Chinese, so today, at least, the British can drive cars that actually work.

History

Average british car in early 60's

In 1968, the British government made a truly desperate move – merging two dying companies, Leyland Motors and British Motor Holdings (BMH), into one monstrous giant called British Leyland Motor Corporation (BLMC). BMH already owned Austin, Morris, MG, Riley, Wolseley, Triumph, Rover, Princess, Vanden Plas, and, for some inexplicable reason, Jaguar and Daimler. All these brands had one thing in common – they sold cars at such ridiculously low prices that manufacturing them was practically economic suicide. On top of that, the production process relied heavily on manual labor, which under normal circumstances might indicate high quality, but in 1960s Britain, it only meant chaos, defects, and assembly lines full of workers settling union disputes with fists, bricks, and occasionally, fatal injuries.

After the merger, production speeds increased, but quality dropped to the level of a chewing gum stuck to the pavement. Cars no longer fell apart in the showroom – they crumbled right on the assembly lines, where total anarchy reigned. Workers in the Morris and Austin factories were busy murdering each other, while in other plants, an unofficial tribal war broke out between different shifts. The bodies of deceased employees were not wasted – their skin was used for seat upholstery, and their clothing was recycled as door insulation.

By 1975, the situation had reached such a low point that the British government decided to fully nationalize BLMC and rename it British Leyland, officially transforming a private disaster into a state-funded catastrophe. After another 11 years of endless strikes, sabotage, parts installed backward, and corporate strategies that resembled a heist planned by drunk monkeys, the company started selling off its brands.

Finally, in 1986, British Leyland mercifully kicked the bucket – arguably the only positive outcome of its entire existence. The British government breathed a sigh of relief, unions lost their private war zone, and British drivers could finally buy cars that didn’t require holy water instead of engine oil.

Brands

Working-Class Brands

Austin

1962 Austin A60 Cambridge

British Leyland decided Austin would be the brand of modern front-wheel-drive cars, which in reality meant a revolutionary mix of low-quality steel, a gearbox assembled like a game of chance, and electrics as reliable as British trade unions. Lifespan? 27 seconds. After starting, it worked for a few moments, then the doors fell off, the engine exploded, and all that remained was a pile of sad wreckage.

Morris

Brand new Morris Oxford

Supposed to be more conservative than Austin, meaning it lasted up to three minutes. Built from randomly selected parts, quality control involved giving it a light kick—if it didn’t fall apart immediately, it went to the showroom. Production was plagued by constant strikes, gang fights, and occasional “accidental” human remains in the upholstery.

Mid-Range Brands

Triumph & MG

Meant to rival European sports cars but ended up as a mechanized death ritual. Gearboxes locked up at any speed change, chassis shattered on the first speed bump, and brakes were an optional extra—sometimes left out entirely.

Rover

Advertised as a working man’s luxury car but was actually a pricier gamble on survival. Rust appeared within weeks, electrics shorted out at random, and overheating engines often resulted in spectacular under-hood explosions.

Luxury Brands

Jaguar & Daimler

The crown jewel of British luxury, proving that a brand-new car could still be a scrapyard disaster. Engines either purred or detonated, electrics had a mind of their own, and rust was included as a standard feature. Daimler was just a more expensive version of the same catastrophe.

Princess

A failed attempt at affordable luxury, produced twice and both times a disaster. The first model (1947–1968) was an antique by the time it retired. The second (1975–1981) was a sedan pretending to be a hatchback, featuring a self-destructing suspension, an engine as powerful as a vacuum cleaner, and steering so vague it was more of a suggestion than a function.

Honorable Mentions

Vanden Plas

A cheap Austin with fake Rolls-Royce styling, where the seats might stay bolted down—if you were lucky.

Wolseley

Premium branding, catastrophic execution. Steering could fail at any time, suspension disintegrated on bumps, and by 1975, even British Leyland gave up and shut it down.

Riley

Nobody knew why it still existed, so in 1969, it was simply deleted. Most models fell apart before reaching customers, and those that didn’t were probably factory defects.

However, there's a full list of brands:

Brand	Year Founded	Date Defunct	Hope for Competitiveness	Functionality (Before Collapse)	Typical Problems	Manufacturing Locations	Best product
Austin	1905	1990	Died with BL, desperate quality, but modern	27 seconds	Poor assembly, falling panels, spontaneous disintegration	Longbridge (Birmingham)
Land Rover	1948	Survived (now Tata)	Frame + body = Hopeless	5+ years (soldiers repaired it)	Leaky body, holes in the floor, oil everywhere	Solihull
Leyland	1896	1986 (as DAF)	Double-deckers and trucks which were obsolete on the blueprints	Days to months	Strikes, rotting bodywork, burns on highways	Leyland (Lancashire)
MG	1924	2005 (revived in China)	Hope for a sports car… until it fell apart	Seconds to minutes	Falling wheels, unreliable engine, spontaneous combustion	Abingdon, later Longbridge
Riley	1896	1969	No one noticed its extinction	0 seconds	Average Riley fell apart after leaving assemble line.	Coventry
Wolseley	1901	1975	Hybrid Austin-Rover… no thanks, horrible front grille	15-17 seconds	Mechanical failures, poor fitment, no future	Birmingham
Vanden Plas	1913	2009 (only as a trim level)	Austin with a Rolls-Royce grille.	Years, if left in a garage	Falling wood trim, fake luxury, holes in the bodywork, horrible styling	Kingsbury, Birmingham
Princess	1975	1981	Hopeful, radical, but built by British Leyland = crap	Up to 2 years	Electrical failures, rusted in the showroom, shoddy assembly, leaking suspension	Cowley (Oxford)
Jaguar	1922	Survived (now Tata)	Luxurious, fast but unreliable	2–5 years (with service)	Leaks, ghostly electrics, melting interior	Coventry, Castle Bromwich
Daimler	1896	1990s (absorbed by Jaguar)	"A better Jaguar" (which isn’t saying much)	2–4 years	Oil stains, fragile gearbox, corroding luxury	Coventry
Morris	1912	1984	A budget car patched together from the worst concern parts, cars broke down even though they had two moveable parts	3 minutes	Falling exhausts, power loss, rusted chassis, seats were made out of murdered workers	Cowley (Oxford)
Rover	1878	2005 (exists as Roewe in China)	High hopes, hard crash	1–2 years (then the problems began)	Leaky engine, rust on a new car, electrical failures	Solihull, Longbridge
Triumph	1885	1984	Poor people wanted a Jaguar, got hell	7 seconds	Collapsing gearbox, overheating engine, rust	Coventry, Canley
Albion	1899	1972	Scottish pride? No	Years (for military use)	Mechanical wear, weak brakes, corrosion	Glasgow
AEC	1912	1979	London had dreams but no reality, but their armored cars were good.	Years (if driven by a mechanic)	Overheating, snapping axles, bad clutch	Southall
Guy	1914	1982	Convinced a few people it worked	Hours to weeks	Engine failures, unreliable under load, frame corrosion	Wolverhampton
Scammell	1921	1988	Stuck in WWII, zero modernization	5+ years (if nobody drove it)	Brutal fuel consumption, stiff suspension, zero ergonomics	Watford

Production process

Model Planning

Most probable situation in BL factory

The entire process began with managers who had no clue about cars but perfectly understood union strikes and company liquidation. Every new model was the result of several factors:

• Random sketches on a pub napkin.
• The expectation that cheap = good.
• A combination of the worst features from all other models.
• Calculating how many parts could be recycled from the scrapyard.

Body Manufacturing

Most advanced tool in BL factory. Hammer.

As soon as the plans reached the factory, the first strike began. Workers demanded:

• More breaks.
• Shorter breaks, but more of them.
• A pay raise without the need to work.
• The replacement of management, which had only been elected yesterday.
• The reintroduction of a steady beer supply on the production line.

After three weeks of negotiations (and several murders), body production began.

Production Issues:

• Panels were stamped with millimeter deviations—not that it mattered, as they would fall off anyway.
• Body parts were assembled with the use of "gentle force," meaning kicks.
• Rust appeared during assembly, which workers decided to ignore.
• Some models had mismatched left and right doors, as they were installed based on whatever was available.

Paint Shop

After surviving the chaotic assembly process, the car received its first and last layer of protection—paint.

• First layer: A prayer that the paint would stick.
• Second layer: Watered-down paint applied with a sponge.
• Third layer: Waiting to see whether the paint would start peeling on the assembly line or at the customer’s home.

The factory tested different approaches, including replacing paint with oil—since oil was everywhere anyway.

Assembly of Mechanical Parts

When the car reached the mechanics, another strike broke out. After a few weeks of arguing, some workers reluctantly decided to assemble a few parts.

Engine & Transmission:

• If an engine was available, it was installed. If not, the engine bay was filled with bricks for visual effect.
• The transmission was sometimes bolted in, sometimes just placed inside the engine bay, with the hope that gravity would do the rest.
• Oil? If the worker was in a good mood, he might pour in a little.

Chassis:

• Attaching the wheels was an optional step.
• Brakes had about a 50% chance of existing.
• Shock absorbers were tested by having the lightest worker jump on the car—if it stayed upright, it passed.

Interior

This 1982 Rover SD1 was built very precisely. Door upholstery is on strike.

The interior was assembled from whatever was lying around:

• Seats could be leather, plastic, or the remains of a former colleague (who built an Austin Allegro that somehow lasted for two years).
• The dashboard was usually a cluster of random buttons, most of which had no function.
• The steering wheel could be placed anywhere—standardization was not a priority.

Final Quality Control

Every car went through quality control, which involved:

• Kicking the fender.
• Opening the door—if it fell off, it was reattached with tape.
• Starting the engine—if it exploded, they moved on.

Workers occasionally filled out the checklist to make it look like the car had passed. However, burning wrecks frequently clogged the production line, leading to strikes over "unfair working conditions."

Distribution & Sales

By the time the cars reached dealers, they were usually in an advanced state of corrosion. Customers had two options:

• Buy the car and immediately take it for repairs.
• Return the car and receive another one with the same, if not worse, issues.

Complaints were ignored because BL claimed the cars functioned "within expected limits"—which was true, as long as you expected them to work for about two minutes.

Similar Companies

Although it might seem that British Leyland was a unique example of industrial failure, that’s not the case. Other conglomerates also chose to ignore common sense and create cars that fell apart before you could even finish paying for them. And the most interesting part? They’re essentially all the same conglomerate.

Horrible

Rootes Group

• Founded: 1913
• Death: 1978 (devoured by Chrysler and PSA)

Manufacturing locations: UK, France, Spain

Rootes Group was so incompetent that even Chrysler— a company with its own survival issues—managed to kill it. Rootes specialized in:

• Luxury cars like the Humber Snipe, which were heavier than a tank but far less safe.
• Family cars like the Hillman Imp, which started rusting before they even left the drawing board.
• Sports cars like the Sunbeam, whose engines had a tendency to explode before leaving the production line.

In 1967, Chrysler bought Rootes, which was like handing a drowning man an anchor. Chrysler took over, destroyed its reputation, and in 1978 sold it to PSA (Peugeot-Citroën). The French took one look at the production quality and decided to shut down entire divisions rather than try to fix them.

Chrysler Europe

• Founded: 1970 (by acquiring Rootes)
• Death: 1978 (sold to PSA, which immediately tore it to pieces)

Manufacturing locations: same as Rootes

Chrysler decided to compete with BL to see who could make worse cars. The result? Simca, Talbot, and other Franco-British monstrosities, such as:

• Simca 1307 – revolutionary design with the power of an air rifle.
• Talbot Horizon – an attempt at a modern hatchback that actively tried to kill its driver.
• Chrysler Alpine – looked like an Audi, but had the reliability of a soggy baguette.

In 1978, Chrysler sold its entire European mess to PSA, which immediately killed off the Talbot brand because it wanted no part in such an embarrassment.

Car lifespan: 6 months—if parked in a vacuum-sealed chamber.

Ugh

Stellantis

• Founded: 2021
• Still alive (but dying)

Manufacturing locations: Worldwide

Stellantis is a modern attempt at creating another BL, but on a global scale.

When you combine:

• FIAT (famous for manufacturing tuna cans with wheels)
• Peugeot/Citroën (a specialist in turbo-diesels that last exactly until the warranty expires)
• Chrysler/Dodge/Jeep (a company that only survived thanks to the U.S. government)
• Opel (the brand that single-handedly destroyed Germany’s reputation for reliability)

You get Stellantis—a conglomerate that shares technology but, more importantly, shares incompetence.

Car lifespan: 1–2 years, as long as you avoid rain, frost, and starting the engine.

British Leyland fan club

Why these people exist and celebrating 50th anniversary of foundation of the worst car concern?

British Leyland is dead. But its followers live on, lurking in the shadows of Birmingham, where every garage hides a mechanical cancer named Austin Allegro, Morris Marina, or Rover SD1. These people aren’t just classic car enthusiasts. They are fanatical psychopaths whose obsession with old British rust buckets has turned into a cult of torture, murder, and human sacrifice.

On the surface, they seem friendly, even polite. They’ll tell you how "modern cars have no soul", how "the Austin Princess was revolutionary", and how "the Rover V8 is the best engine ever made." But behind closed doors—especially in their underground garages—something far more sinister takes place.

DISAPPEARING CRITICS

Since the 1970s, people have vanished from Birmingham. Not just anyone, but:

• Owners of Fords, Vauxhalls, and Volkswagens, labeled as heretics.
• Former British Leyland employees who dared to say the cars were garbage.
• Unlucky souls who, at a classic car show, mocked the Austin Maxi.

They never returned. No signs of struggle, no evidence left behind. But the locals know the truth. The Leyland cult took them.

MODUS OPERANDI

Each cultist isn’t just a car enthusiast—they’re a sadistic killer bound by strict rituals:

KIDNAPPING & TORTURE

Automotive heretics (e.g., those who claim the Ford Cortina was better than the Marina) are abducted and taken to abandoned factories in Longbridge or Solihull, where they endure horrifying tortures:

• Beatings with rusted Rover axles.
• Flaying—victims are tied to a Mini balancing machine and scraped with metal brushes.
• Hanging—strung up with Morris Marina fan belts.
• Quartering—tied to four Allegros, all reversing at once.

Once dead, victims’ blood is mixed with Rover V8 oil and used to grease sectional saws that dismember the bodies. Bones are burned alongside MG Metro brochures.

FORCED CONVERSION

Some aren’t killed immediately. Instead, they are tortured until they confess that British Leyland was the greatest car company of all time. If they refuse, they are welded to the hood of a Rover SD1 and abandoned in the Solihull wastelands—to be devoured by wild dogs.

THE CHURCHES OF LEYLAND

The Leyland faithful don’t live in normal homes. They operate from underground garages and secret workshops, hoarding both classic cars and the unlucky souls who dared to mock them. Their main strongholds include:

• Longbridge Factory – The cult’s headquarters. Screams still echo through its dark halls.
• A mysterious Midlands barn – Where Rover critics are sacrificed.
• Underground storage in Cowley – Filled with torture tools made from old Morris Minor parts.

If you ever encounter a Leyland cultist, remember:

• Never say that Ford was better.
• Never mention that the Allegro looks like a potato.
• Never suggest that the Rover SD1 had quality issues.
• If they invite you to ‘see their garage,’ run.

See also

• Crap
• Morris Marina
• United Kingdom
• Socialism
• Nationalised industry