There are other things too. The steering is inert. The brakes feel as uninterested as the engine, and the ride, on air suspension, is disappointing at low speeds. On the move, it’s fine, or even good, but around town, which is where this car will spend most of its time, picking up Cilla Black from functions, it’s as jittery as the Jag XF I recently tested (of which, more next week).

There is, then, absolutely no point in buying the 500 version of this car. You may as well have the diesel, which is less powerful but much more economical and, in the real world, every bit as fast. But if you are going to buy a mid-range diesel saloon, then the E-class simply doesn’t hold a candle to the Jag.

Normally, with a Mercedes, you feel that everything is there for a reason. With the E-class you have that crease on the rear wing — which isn’t — and a lot of things on the options list that border, I suspect, on being a bit gimmicky.

Certainly, if you specified everything, you’d have a car that would buzz and beep and bong more than Apollo 13 after the oxygen tank exploded.

This is a car that can read speed limits and alert you if you break them, that uses radar to decide how much braking force you should use, that spots pedestrians in the dark, that knows about traffic jams ahead and cars that are overtaking in your blind spot and walls that you are about to reverse into. This is a car that shouts at you if you take your seatbelt off or open the door or leave your key in the ignition. And if you shout back, it will respond without fuss or murmur. Individually, some of these things are interesting. Some might even be worth specifying. But combined, they’d drive you mad.

The upshot is that the new E‑class is not as good as the Jaguar XF or the BMW 5-series. It doesn’t look good, it’s boring and, worse than that, it probably signals that the end of the road for the four-door saloon car is not very far away.

Mercedes has always been the company to which we turn for the next bright idea. It was first with internal combustion and first with antilock brakes and first, frankly, with everything in between. But all I see on the E-class is a rounding-off of the edges. A bit of fiddling with an idea that’s out of steam.

In the olden days, the four-door saloon was the only real choice for the consumer. It sat in our lives like fish and chips and the Post Office and British Rail tea. What do you mean, you want a skinny latte? Or an Earl Grey? Or a curry? Or O2? Or a Mac? Choice hadn’t been invented. So you had a Cortina.

Now, though, the family man or woman can have an MPV or a mini MPV or an SUV or a drop-top or an estate or a four-seater coupé. And every single one of these alternatives is better than the traditional three-box idea.

It’s very difficult, as Porsche has just proved with the Panamera, to make a four-door car sexy. And it’s very difficult to think of any new way of making the drive feel different or better than it was in the previous model. Yes, you might find an extra 2mm of legroom here and a slight cut in carbon dioxides there. But, really, the genre is advancing like world records in athletics. A tiny bit at a time towards a moment when going any faster or making things any better will be simply impossible.

Mercedes has always shown us the way forward. But with the new E-class it has shown us that we’re at the end of the line. Some day, then, all saloon cars will be this dull.

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