emily@besottied.com

Muriel is my 06-plate Citroën C3 Pluriel. I've had her from new and still remember the day she rolled off the transporter, all mucky and covered in bits of polystyrene.

The last 3 letters of her number plate are a bit rude, which amuses me greatly. She guzzles petrol and therefore costs me 8 million pounds a week to run but I still love her more than life itself. Which is worrying, I suppose, if you think about it.

Whatever. There are no nice boys where I live. Even if there were, the adult population is 60% female and I really can't be bothered putting that much cat-fighty effort in. My hair-straightening and eyeliner-applying skills just don't cut the mustard.

But enough about me. The versatile C3 Pluriel is a feat of modern engineering. My version of the story of its creation is:

The Citroën man (let's call him Pierre. Also let's have him wear a stripy scarf, because I rather like boys in stripey scarves) strolls in to work one day. He's a bit bored and it's years before he gets to make that advert where the Citroën C4 turns into a robot. Pierre leans back in his swivelly office chair, recalling the glory days of that Citroën classic, the 2CV. He gets up from his desk to ponder his collection of 2CV memorabilia...

(You'll just have to go with it. I'm making this up as I go along.)

So, our man Pierre slips on a rogue string of onions, or a baguette, or something equally stereotypical. He bangs his head on the bookshelf and drops, like a weighty French stone, to the ground.

Whilst enjoying his blackout, Pierre vaguely remembers playing with Lego bricks as an enfant in the Dordogne. He recalls having a rather thrilling time doing so. He awakens with a jolt.

"Zut alors!" he exclaims. "I can make a CAR out of LEGO BRICKS!"

Pierre sets to work and comes up with a concept car. It has a soft top, like the curvy 2CV - only he makes it automated. Press a little hidden button and swizzle the roof around on itself - oo look, it's slipped into a secret compartment in the boot! We now have a rather rotund cabriolet! Flip the seats down to make a très chic, er... pickup truck. Now, let's make the roof arches pop off...

And so forth, until Pierre has bits of car all over his lawn. This is no bad thing. I have bits of car all over my lawn half the time, and I LOVE it!

PS, Muriel is also known as Mu, the bean, mon petit pois and so forth. I speak of her in very affectionate tones, even though she nearly snapped my finger off once. It was vile, take a look!

That's my finger, in a giant plastic splint, soaked in iodine with steri-strips holding the whole thing together. It was my own fault - I somehow slammed my own finger in my own car door, by myself. And I wasn't even drunk. Laura had to drive me (in Muriel) to Accident and Emergency, where we had to wait for hours with a lot of strange people offering us mini pork pies. I think I'm developing arthritis in that finger now =S

And Muriel? Well, I could never stay mad at her...