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I understand that. When I was growing up, Hollywood and TV was where we went for a spot of escapism, not Monza. And what we saw there did not wear a prancing horse or a trident. It wore a big, lazy V8 snarl. It was an American muscle car.

What's more, a Ferrari is built primarily to go round corners. That five-way traction control and e-diff combo in an F430 is designed specifically to provide a simply staggering amount of grip, way, way more than any normal driver would ever have the balls to explore.

An American muscle car, on the other hand, is built primarily not to go round corners. So, its abilities are on a par with those of our own. This makes us feel heroic and manly as we wrestle to keep the back end in shape. While doing a safe 4mph.

Then, when we get to a straight bit of road, we can bury the throttle, rejoice in the intake sizzle, revel in the roar and hang on for dear life as two gallons of juice catapult us to the horizon.

Muscle cars, in short, are not as clever as Ferraris. But they're just as exciting. And they're simpler, which, in a world of convenience food and remote control TV sets, is a good thing.

I haven't finished yet. A friend recently sold his DB9, and though he's probably the worst driver in the world, he replaced it with a Ferrari 360. Within a week, he knew he'd done the equivalent of passing his cycling proficiency test and then attempting to mountain bike down Everest.

So what's he going to buy now? In the past, there were countless alternatives from AC to Gordon Keeble via Frazer Nash and Humber. Now there aren't. There's Maserati, Merc and, at a pinch, the new Jaguar XK.

In essence, the world's millionaires are starved of choice. They struggle to find a single car that lets them stand out from the crowd. I know someone who bought a Maybach knowing it was terrible... and as a result, no one else would have one.

People like this often eat in a restaurant in Barnes. It's called Riva and opposite, there's an American car dealership. It's full of tempting alternatives: 'Vettes, Hummers, Thunderbirds and the new Mustang. But none of them quite does it somehow.

The Hummer is nothing but a GMC Tahoe in a Power Ranger suit. The current Mustang is pretty but wet. The Thunderbird is gay and the 'Vette, though lovely to drive, has lost some of its family tree's sparkle.

So, here we have a group of wealthy, middle-aged men who've never watched motor racing and therefore don't want a Ferrari. They can't drive very well, either, so don't care about slip angles. And they don't want a modern car because their mates will have one too.