this is a Jaguar CX75. And its gorgeous. Not only that; its ‘lectric. Innit. It has electric power of the plug-in variety and a ‘little’ 1600 turbocharged engine. And its featured in the new Bond film out next week. Ok, driven by the baddie but its a cool set’a wheels, driven by anybody. And how wonderful that its a proper, greener-than-thou hybrid.

Well, the one in the picture is. The one that goes on sale will be. But the one in the movie, seen chasing Bond’s Aston Martin, screeching round corners and burning rubber down the autobahns (haven’t seen the movie, don’t do ‘Bond’, just guessing where they chase) is in fact not a ‘lectric car at all. Nor a hybrid. No, its got a fuck-off, gas-guzzling V8 proper petrol engine emitting more noxious carbon than all the VWs in America. Even though the car will never be produced with that engine for sale. Which is kind’a ‘trades descriptionish’ in my mind, showing people that this car, yet to reach the shops (shops?), is a Supercar, whereas in reality its a milk float that runs on 26 AAs.

Apparently the car in electric form is rather perky. According to some electric car fan who was interviewed. What he didn’t say is that even if this car in full electric mode could perform that well, it could only do so for about 77 yards til you need to plug it in again. Which would make the film 7 hours long and really really fucking boring.

If I was a car, I’d be a Jaguar CX75 (the film version, obvs.). Beautiful, sleek, loud and really uneconomical and inefficient.

You’d be a sodding Prius. In grey. With dented bumpers and a cracked windscreen.

But if I was a rugby player, I’d definitely be Dan Carter. I think I have a man-crush on him. The All Blacks were fantastic in the second half against South Africa and get to play in the world cup final next weekend. Not the most spectacular game, in the rain, but gritty and dirty and wonderful. With the right result. I feel. And Dan feels that too.

If he was a car he’d be a CS75 too. Maybe in black? And we’d ride off, side by side, into the sunset. Aaaahhhhh. Then 75 yards later we’d stop, plug in, chat about the weather for half an hour, then resume. Et cetera, et cetera…

Happy Saturday night; don’t forget to put the clocks back or YOU’LL BE LATE FOR TENNIS. Or, in fact, very early.

A xxxx