It's the clutch, apparently. Horsing it down the bank past Bede College, I approached the lights at the Barnes roundabout and pop, the whole damn thing ground to a halt; no power, no lights, no motion.

Thankfully, a nice bloke from the AA came out and not only got me to the garage (big up Grangetown Autos), but he also ended up coming back to my house at the end of his shift to drop of a folder that I'd stupidly left in his van. What a fool.

The moral of the tale is this: French cars look great, they've got lots of lovely features and are nice to drive, unfortunately, they're made entirely of yoghurt pots and as a result cost you loads of money. £500 for a new clutch in this case. Oh, and if anyone can explain to me how your clutch melting can fuse the battery, you're a better mechanic than me.

Moan moan, grumble, grumble, bah, humbug.

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