Why do car manufacturers still feel compelled to drape female flesh over their show cars? If I wanted to ogle underfed women with thousand yard stares, I'd go to Harvey Nichols, not the British Motor Show. Not only does the practice fly in the face of one hundred years of women's liberation, it detracts from the cars. Like most male enthusiasts, I find a close encounter with a well-formed motorcar exciting enough. It's difficult to focus on the true object of my affections when confronted by a scantily clad girl trying to look friendly without encouraging actual intercourse.

I'm sure the sexual intimidation is intentional. Everyone is well aware that Motor Show babes know less about cars than a Congolese banana grower. An army of midriffs, breasts and legs protects the PR Flacks from punters' probing questions about new gear ratios and the wisdom of clear indicator lenses. The girls also provide notoriously competitive (and male dominated) car manufacturers with yet another arena for establishing bragging rights. To wit: "Did you see the Nissan stand? Lousy cars, great tits."

Kirk Stingle, my favourite Porsche salesman, describes the 911 as the 'Swiss Army knife of sports cars'. It can cruise, thrash, potter, pose, park and ferry in all weathers, with equal aplomb. Get jiggy with the options list, and you'll enjoy all the latest luxury car toys and creature comforts. At the end of the financial year, a fully specced, top-of-the-range 911 is still cheaper than an 'entry level' Ferrari. Other than a winning lottery ticket, what more could you want?

Power. And so, on the seventh day, the zealots of Zuffenhausen created the 911 Turbo. And on the eighth day, they created the Power Pack. These factory enhancements increase the engine's peak output from a not inconsiderable 420bhp, to a monumental 450bhp. The zero to sixty time sinks to 3.79 seconds. Porsche calls the extra oomph an 'option', but c'mon, you know it isn't. Put it this way…

Road racing is like masturbation. We all do it, but no one wants to admit it. Why? It's obvious enough. People take one look at your bulging wheel arches and think yeah, he does it. Well of course you do. Do you seriously expect anyone to believe you bought a car specifically engineered for high-speed performance so you could slavishly obey The Highway Code? That's like buying a pump-action shotgun to knock down cobwebs. It's logical, but implausible.

Talk all you like about your sports car's brand heritage and timeless design. The average man in the street doesn't see it that way. They clock your race-ready wheels and know you're just itching to humiliate some velocity-challenged Vauxhall. And they're not wrong, are they? Any Porsche driver who claims he bought his car to drive 70 miles per hour on the motorway, only using the outside lane to pass slower moving vehicles when it is safe to do so, is either in deep denial, lying or has severely injured his testicles.

When you fire-up the Audi RS6, its twin-turbo V8 engine produces the perfectly modulated burble of a modern day muscle car. Then something odd happens. A low whine fills the cabin, quickly and steadily ascending in pitch. It's the same noise you hear in a jet before the engines start, as the Auxiliary Power Unit spools up.

In reality, the RS6' air conditioning pump creates the whine. Or does it? If you so much as breathe on the go pedal, the RS6 accelerates with all the seamless, relentless resolve of a jet fighter. Give the accelerator a hard shove, and the afterburners kick in. The RS6 shifts down a cog, growls in the time-honoured V8 tradition, and blasts forwards like a Tomcat off an aircraft carrier.

The Advertising Standards Authority (ASA) recently ruled on an ad showing a Mazda 323 Sport against a blurred background. The caption read, "Why Keep Up with the Jones's When You Can Overtake?" The ASA ruled that the ad "glamorised speed" and "condoned fast driving". They directed Mazda to withdraw the ad, and told them not to do it again.

The text of the Authority's adjudication clearly states that Mazda consulted their Committee of Advertising Practice Copy Advice Team before running the ad. The ASA also accepted that the ad's main message was not about speed. They agreed that the photograph did not suggest that the car was breaking the speed limit, or being driven recklessly.