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So the snapper needs a big car, which isn't so much of a problem, as there are plenty around.

However, the lensman will also cover significant mileages in the course of his work, and as he must arrive fresh for his encounter with Leica, the Greek muse of creative photography, his car must be comfortable. Again, this is easy to achieve.

But here's the tricky bit. In order to produce those dramatic low-angle kerbside shots of a new Aston, or the up-the-nostril portrait of Clarkson, taken as though the camera is mounted on his shoes, the photographer must squirm and grovel in the dust of the earth. On every car shoot I've ever been on, the bloke ends up kneeling in a puddle. As a result of that, the inside of his car looks like a pig yard.

So what the photographer needs is a large, very comfortable car with a hose-down interior, but as far as I can make out, no such thing exists. Land Rover Defenders are designed for wading and so they can be jet washed on the inside. They will also take a lot of kit. But you wouldn't want to go any distance in one.

That's why the Range Rover was created, to combine the utilitarian efficacy of the original Landy with a bit of long-distance comfort. And it worked for a bit, but then it was gradually turned into a gin palace with nice carpet and aromatic leather, and rendered useless.

I think we may have arrived at a genuine misconception, namely that any car that is spacious, mechanically refined and long-legged must be luxurious and opulently trimmed.

This is fine for a car that's taken out for special occasions, but for everyday use, the interior of a car needs to be the equivalent of that wipe-down emulsion in bathrooms - no nooks and crannies, no electric motors under the seat, vinyl upholstery, rubber carpets.

Car designers need to think less in terms of sitting rooms and hotel receptions, and more in terms of kitchen worktops and public swimming pool changing rooms.

I would buy the 'snapper' edition of the E-Class estate or the Toyota Verso and so, I imagine, would anyone with children, dogs, or who had ever spilled a take-away bhuna in the footwell. In fact, you know those cheap French roadside hotels, where your bathroom is formed from a single plastic moulding?

Like that.