Scheduler on the fritz, so a bit late on parade today.

There are some really swanky cars in Cambridge. Quite a few AMG Mercedes. Dunno why. Unless you have race driver reflexes, ability, and nerves, you’re going to end up in the Cam or upside down in a fen somewhere bleak and remote. Mental beyond belief. Mercedes/AMG taking the piss out of people with more money than sense, and a very short life expectancy. Mind you, you’ll be your local tyre dealer’s best mate. Not for long. You don’t buy tyres when you’re in a hospital bed immobilised on a traction device.

Here’s an odd phenomenon though. If you buy a BMW you can badge it pretty much as you like. Anything goes. You can buy a 320 runaround, and get it badged by the dealer, for a few quid, as a M335, or M338, or an M340. All real deal M Series Beemers are raunchboxes, though vastly overpriced, but you can make your repmobile or shopping trolley look as if you sweat testosterone.

There’s a flaw here. Somebody I worked with had a 316, had it badged as a 320i. Bollocks. Under the bonnet it had a carburetted 1.6 four cylinder, not an injected 6 cylinder straight. And it wasn’t hard, as a car freak, to spot the fibbing going on.

The exhaust was a dead giveaway. The 316 had a single exhaust tailpipe. The 320 had twin tailpipes. Car freaks get this stuff.

This happens a lot in Cambridge. I see a Beemer carrying M340 markings, and go, ‘Oh give me a break, will you? Where are the twin-ganged double outlet exhausts? And it sure doesn’t sound like a Beemer 4 litre V configuration.’

I get fast cars. I understand them. I do. I’ve had some real tarmac-rippers, and apart from The Beast, the notoriously violent Opel Manta 400 rallycar*, I kept it low key. Certainly nobody could guess my rather ‘not exactly as it came out of the factory’ Nissan 200 SX. I’m just glad the insurance company never caught that little infraction during my ‘blowing doors off Ferraris’ days.

But how small is your penis if you have to badge up your car falsely? Just admit you bought a runaround, not a roadripper.

*What a ridiculous company car, but my female clients loved it to death when they had to brace their heads against the head restraints to avoid neck strain.