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So, the car makers would love it because it'd be inexpensive. Die-hard racing enthusiasts would love it because half the field would be pros. The tracks would love it because thousands would turn up to watch Kate Silverton going wheel to wheel with Matt Neal. The sponsors would love it because their brand would be endorsed by David Ginola, and the television companies would love it because, for the first time in 14 years, they'd have a motor racing programme people would like to watch. And which didn't cost them £200 million.

I am so pleased with this idea in fact, that you can consider this column a statement of intent. And if anyone rips me off, I shall send my lawyers round to make a brooch out of their liver.

Of course, at this point you might be jumping up and down, imagining that you're the only one to have spotted the big flaw in my plan. You have doubtless read the tabloids and the supermarket glossies, and you doubtless have it in your head that all celebrities go round to one another's mansions each evening to quaff champagne, gorge on swan and snort cocaine until the early hours.

You probably think that even now, as you read this, Huw Edwards, the newsreader, is in bed with Kate Moss while Sadie Frost looks on. And that they're all going to the Ivy for lunch because they fancy eating a peregrine falcon. So, you might be thinking, "Why would they risk this life of sex and myrrh and gold for the chance to get lightly killed in a Seat Ibiza on a soggy track in Lincolnshire?"

Well, there's the thing. You're wrong. First of all, celebrities do not earn anything like the money the papers claim. Mostly, they lead ordinary lives. Some even buy shoes from time to time. And nearly all of them do not have chauffeurs. Most drive themselves, and if you look at the list of stars who've appeared in TG's reasonably priced Chevy, you'll note that some of them are good. Very good.

Let's take Jay Kay as an example of the breed. You may imagine that he likes to start the evening with his head in a bowl of marching powder and end it, after punching a few photographers, with his whole head in a supermodel. In fact, he has a cottage in Scotland where he spends most of his time, camping and walking.

What's more, he's a very, very good driver. He has a feel for the car, a sense of what the front wheels are doing and how much grip they have left. And it's the same story with Peter Jones, from Dragon's Den. If he weren't 17ft tall, he'd have been up there at the top. So would Lawrence Dallaglio. The Stig reckons he's the best we've ever had. He was also amazed by Ellen MacArthur and Jennifer Saunders, both of whom were super fast and super smooth. Then there's Simon Cowell and Les Ferdinand. Both brilliant. And who can forget Jodie Kidd. Not me, that's for sure.

Would any of these people want to have a crack at pro-celebrity motor racing? Well, apart from Simon Cowell, the answer is, you can bet your life on it. And, come to think of it. I wouldn't be all that surprised if Simon said yes as well. So there we are. I have seen the future. And in it, Jennifer Saunders is charging through the gooseneck, in a lime green Vauxhall.