I’ve owned my current one around six months now and I’m already fed up with him. He runs well enough but he’s desperately lacking that WOW factor, the envy that envelops your soul when you see a middle-aged guy fly past you in a sports car with the rain cover pulled back (yet he’s wearing a hat and scarf because the weather’s bad).

It makes you look at your own life and question where you went wrong.

Sam (my little buggy) inspires the same amount of envy you’d get from seeing someone with the flu. He’s cute enough, but lacking in style and failing to inspire anyone with a taste for expensive tastes.

“He’s OK for going from A to B,” my mate Jeff piped up when I had a moan during our weekly visit to stock up on industrial packs of loo roll at the cash & carry.

“I feel like the Laurel and Hardy theme is our soundtrack when we’re driving, J Dawg,” I sighed. “I know I’ll never be able to afford something mega flash like a Porsche or a Qashqai, but I wish Sam was a bit more, you know, snazzy.”

“Give him a makeover,” Jeff suggested, shrugging. Eureka! Why didn’t I think of that? I couldn’t afford a Ferrari but I could sacrifice a few pennies to make him look just as cool! “Get one of them ‘go faster’ stripes down the side!” he exclaimed.

I should point out that Now, Jeff is an automobile fanatic. He LOVES cars, but please bear in mind that you can love something without knowing anything about it. I adored eating haggis from the chippy for a while until I Googled what exactly it was. Sometimes when you understand the workings of something it loses its mystery and appeal… like haggis. I didn’t question Jeff’s knowledge, however, because I idiotically took his word as gospel. In retrospect, I should have asked to see his qualifications.

“That’ll do,” he said, pointing out some yellow matte paint in the DIY section at the shop.

“OK,” I said. “I don’t want it wonky, mind!”

“Already sorted. I’ve got some masking tape.” He pointed to his basket.

We were all set to pimp my ride! We grabbed some glitter paint to spruce up the alloys with another time, and, bBefore you know it, we were home and getting into those disposable suits that forensics wear.

I shook with excitement as J started measuring and applying tape: “I’ll do it like a lightning bolt... it’ll be class, eh.” It was then that I began to question not only Jeff’s DIY skills but his artistry.

“Jeff,” I interrupted. “It looks sausage shaped."

“Trust me!” Jeff snapped. “I’ve been painting Warcraft figures for years.”

I left him to it. I came back. continue whilst I secured pink, furry seat covers into Sam and prepared a snack break (beef hula hoops in a Paw Patrol bowl).“Jeff! That’s not a bolt! And what are those things?!” I gasped.

“I thought you liked stars... I improvised.” His gaze lost mine.

Whilst I was on the verge of a panic attack the heavens opened and I was relieved as the paint began to run. Back inside we laughed it off and eventually the sun came out. It was only after witnessing a crowd form outside my house I realised the rain hadn’t washed all the paint away – it had left just enough to form a dirty word...

I should have stuck with the Laurel and Hardy mobile. An innocent joke will always be less offensive than a dirty (car) one.