I should declare an interest from the start. The first car I bought was an Alfa Romeo GT Junior. To me it looked like a mini Jag (well it was the 1980s), came loaded with Italian promise and was painted a sexy shade of red.

I had swapped it for the eminently sensible Datsun 120Y, given to me by my father. The Japanese car never missed a beat but was soulless. And bright orange.

Naturally I sold the Datsun when he wasn’t looking to bring the Alfa home. It was 12-years-old and riddled with rust. Soon things started to drop off and the front wings had been stuffed with filler.

Eventually, the Junior died on the driveway, the brakes locked up and it trashed the tarmac surface when a lorry came to tow it away.

I should know better but just the mention of Alfa still brightens my day. The Golf-sized Giulietta is far prettier than anything from VW, Ford or Vauxhall.

All those marques offer equally good cars but most of them cost more. They won’t make you feel good like an Alfa either, or prove quite so entertaining when the road clears ahead of you.

I know for sure that this top spec Super isn’t going to rust too…