Four-wheel-drives; who needs em? There I was enjoying my favourite country lane, accompanied by AC-DC on the stereo, when I came face to face with a three litre, twin turbo, fuel injected dreadnought driven by a small toff wearing a multi-coloured Hackett polo shirt.

We both stopped and Mr Posh gesticulated in a “why don’t you reverse back to the layby,” kind of way. I suppose at 8.55am there was a great urgency to drop off at school and make it to the golf club for a quick round.

I got out of the car and pointed out the fact that we were roughly in the middle of the space between two passing points. Moreover, I was driving a Porsche and he was probably better equipped to traverse the sloping foot high grass bank either side of the road and if he took his man bag off the extra little gear knob then he could even slip it into four wheel drive.

What followed was an erratic display of tyre smoking reversing back to the nearest passing space. Clearly he was not going to get his wheels dirty.

Why is it that anybody who lives more than half a mile outside the city limits feels compelled to own a huge four-wheel drive monster truck complete with GPS, altimeter and inclinometer (that’s a clever gadget which tells you your vehicle is at such an acute angle it’s about to topple over). This is clearly essential equipment when negotiating the speed humps at the Park & Ride.

I suppose there was no other conceivable way of transporting Tarquin the half-mile or so to school, even though his high flying mummy obviously managed the short drive to the nearest railway station or motorway junction perfectly well in her two seater Mercedes.

The fact that every village in Oxfordshire has the luxury of metalled roads seems to have escaped the majority of nouveau country folk.

Then, of course, there is the safety factor. For example, should Tarquin’s daddy have a momentary lapse of concentration while texting his mistress or ogling the yummy mummies at the school gate then he is safe in the knowledge that any unsuspecting pedestrian, pet or average-sized vehicle will be crushed without any danger to little Tarquin or himself. And his Dire Straits CD won’t even skip a beat.

Don’t get me wrong, I accept that there are people who have a genuine need to drive off-road, for instance farmers, gamekeepers, and rally drivers. The men in red coats who chase foxes need somewhere to carry their guns. Oh, and the emergency services.

Just because you’ve watched three episodes of Escape to the Country, you don’t have to go out and spend £30,000 on a car you don’t need.