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When a couple decides to get married, it is the job of the bride and her family to organise the church, the party, the dress, the invitations, the catering, the vicar, the bridesmaids, the cars, the present list and the vast quantity of beer needed to quench the thirst of the New Zealanders who turn up to build the marquee.

The bridegroom, on the other hand, must busy himself choosing a nice place to go on honeymoon.

There are many remote islands from which to choose. You've got the Maldives, Mauritius, the Seychelles and Tahiti, long before you even arrive at the Caribbean where the choice becomes even more bewildering and complex.

The brochures are no help. Because I know for a fact that they all use exactly the same shot of exactly the same palm tree no matter what island paradise they're talking about. But don't worry, because while the travel people are useless, Uncle Jeremy can help...

Having been to most of these places, I can assure you that they are all exactly the same. You'll have a white beach, blue sea, and an endless array of men in silly costumes who'll endeavour to make your life as pleasant as possible. Usually by bringing your breakfast to your room on something hugely inappropriate. Like an elephant. Or a canoe.

It is much the same story with supercars. Oh, you may dream about a Maserati, but you know what? When all is said and done, it'll do almost exactly the same job as any of the others. Get you noticed and move you much more quickly than is sensible or prudent. While bellowing.

Happily, however, unlike honeymoon hideaways, there is one exception with supercars. One brand that does stand out: Ferrari. It doesn't matter whether you're talking about the 430, the 599 or the 612 - they feel very different to the rest of the breed. They feel... better.

It's hard to explain why. Ferrari blathers on about the e-diffs and the variable valves and the stupid manettino switch on the steering wheel, but none of this has anything to do with it. It's hard, even, to describe the feeling in words, but I always imagine when I'm in a Ferrari that they feel like other cars will feel in about 20 years' time.

They have a lightness and delicacy you don't get in other supercars. There's a poise too, and a sense in your buttocks, ears and fingertips that all will be well no matter how fast you entered the last bend. I like driving them... a lot.

But I don't want to own one, partly because they are not pretty enough, but mainly because the passion and the love and the soul that made Ferraris so special in the past is sort of buried under all the technology. You don't feel like you're in a painting. You feel like you're in a digital photograph.

The new Scuderia though... ooh, that's a different story.

In recent months, we've seen a lightweight Lamborghini Gallardo and a lightweight Porsche GT3. and if we're honest, they are only marginally better than the standard cars. But a lot more expensive.

The Scud is a lot more expensive than the standard car as well. At £172,500, it's £28k more expensive in fact. And for this you get no radio, no carpets, less soundproofing, welds that appear to have been done by apes, carbon fibre where you'd expect something more substantial and a few body tweaks that make the already not very pretty body a bit more slippery. And worse.

Things you can't see? Well it has titanium springs, carbon ceramic brakes, modified pistons, a revised exhaust system, 20bhp more from the 4.3-litre V8, and yet another settingon the stupid manettino steering wheel switch which lets you drive with the stability control on, but the traction control off.

Bollocks. You are either on the road, in which case you want the dampers in their soft setting, and everything on. Or you are on a track, in which case you want the suspension firmed up and everything else off. Who needs five degrees of difference, for crying out loud?