Emissions/Kilian Doyle: Blowing a gasket every week
Now that I've got last week's pleasantries out of my system (praising the Citroën DS), I can return to lambasting stuff willy-nilly, as is my wont. This week, car design gets it in the neck. I appreciate this is a pretty hefty topic, so I'll try to restrict my tirades to new cars, and ignore such past abominations as the Maestro or the Renault 4.
There are some who would give a certain poetic licence to the car designer. My editor, for example, has a soft spot for the Ford Ka. "Yeah, but at least they're trying," he answered when I said it reminded me of a sumo wrestler in a wetsuit.
I concede that certain makers are at least making an effort to breathe new life into what is, in fairness, a pretty formulaic endeavour. But that's no excuse for aesthetic crimes.
In doing a spot of research, I walked around the streets grading different models in terms of ugliness. But rather than be bowled over by the sheer hideousness of over-earnest designers, I was struck by how bland and unimaginative so many cars are.
While the Ford Mondeo, the Honda Accord, the Toyota Avensis and the Opel Vectra are all nominally stylish vehicles (in the way Pat Kenny is nominally stylish, perhaps), can any of you swear blind you could tell the difference between them if they drove past in a row at dusk?
Maybe the editor fella has a point. Throw in a bit of creative licence, cut some corners (literally) and, voila!, sexy cars. Or so the theory goes. The designers of the new Mini Cooper pulled it off, after all.
But it doesn't always work like that. One glance at the Audi TT or the revamped Beetle is enough to prove how stupid cars can look without corners. Take one look at the Fiat Multipla here and tell me, with a straight face, that it looks cool. As for the Chrysler PT Cruiser - I'd rather drive around in a motorised cabbage.
My pet hate is SUVs. Or 4x4s or 4WDs or whatever macho moniker is fashionable this week. I particularly despise the vile thuggish yokes that look like they've been wrapped in grey putty. (Don't even try to hide, Mitsubishi and Toyota, you know I'm talking to you.) And the ostentatious nonsense of the Range Rover is beneath contempt.
Drivers of such vehicles in cities should, by law, be forced to produce incontrovertible evidence once a week that they have either been outside the confines of the M50 or face a public wedgie.
Almost as bad are SUV-wannabes. It's like eating low-fat lard. There are no half measures, and you certainly need to question your dedication to destroying the planet if your weapon of choice looks like the offspring of a 1980s Toyota Corolla and a shopping trolley.
Renault is really giving it a lash, to give it its due. The first time I saw a Megane, I thought the poor fella driving it had been rear-ended by a yacht. The sheer angular definition of it left a car-watcher like me saturated with curves and bumps and filled with admiration. But then I saw the front. The Megane, and its cousins the Vel Satis and Clio, look like snaggle-toothed nurse sharks through a rear-view mirror. Very unsettling. But cool too.
Anyway, what do I know? I have a huge soft spot for Suzuki, the Eddie the Eagle of car design. Absolutely clueless, but always good for a giggle. Bless.