The valet parking man at Gatwick climbed out of my car with an expression that suggested he’d just driven a Panzer at the Russian border as opposed to bringing a very underpowered VW Polo around from the car park. ‘Madam,’ he began, unsteadily. ‘I need to have a word with you about the state of your car.’

I apologised. My Polo is an abysmal state. Empty coffee cups, paper napkins, crinkled bags that once contained sandwiches or doughnuts, plastic water bottles, 58 hair ties, decaying dog biscuits and poo bags (albeit unused) all litter the floor.

It’s also disgracefully muddy because Dennis doesn’t go in the boot. He either sits beside me in the front, or lies along the back seat as if I am his chauffeur and he is a debutante who’s overdone it at The 400. He has a seatbelt because it’s a £5,000 fine if your dog is allowed to roam around your car unrestrained. But still, his paws have caused further mess.

I apologised to the man again and explained that I was soon to hand this car back because it was leased. ‘I’m going to take it to a valet service near me,’ I added, lest he think I’d attempt to return the car in its current state.

‘The poor buggers will need all day,’ he replied.

I meekly agreed, took the key, and motored off, telling myself it could have been worse. I did once fling a used poo bag into my car after a dog walk, when I couldn’t find a bin, and then forgot about it for a few weeks until the smell reminded me. Also, a member of my family who will remain anonymous recently took her car in for its MOT, forgetting there was a pair of (clean) knickers in the door pocket.

Still, time’s up on the leased Polo so I need a new one. Or probably not new, because I’ve belatedly realised that leasing makes little sense in this economy. Three years ago, I entertained a fanciful idea that I didn’t need a car and could exist on an electric bicycle. But then my mother became ill and I needed a car quite urgently, since I could hardly cart us both to the Queen Alexandra Hospital in Portsmouth on a bike.

The upshot was I called every VW dealer in the country, pleading for the cheapest deal they had, and ended up with a gruel-coloured Polo which is only slightly faster than a go-cart. Given that I used to write a column called Toff Gear for Tatler, which required regular reviewing of McLarens and Bentleys, this felt like a fall from grace. To its credit, the Polo has been very reliable, but now I’m thinking I probably should get a car which allows Dennis to go in the boot like a normal dog.

Autotrader has recently handed the ‘best car for dog owners’ award to the Tesla Model Y. Nice for Elon Musk to win something, isn’t it? The garland seems to be largely because the car has a ‘dog mode’ setting which means owners can leave Fido in it with the air-conditioning or heating on, depending on the climate. I knew this already since, during a trip to Palm Beach earlier this year, I stayed with my friend Emily, who has a Tesla. When I opted to stay in the car during a shopping expedition, she switched it into dog mode and a large notice appeared on the car’s flatscreen for any anxious passers-by: ‘My driver will be back soon. Don’t worry! The a/c is on and it’s 71°F.’ Fortunately, no Palm Beachers in the car park seemed unduly worried about me.

I’m thinking I probably should get a car which allows Dennis to go in the boot like a normal dog

Can I go electric? My eco friend Andy insists that I should. On a sweltering day in the summer, he, his wife and their newborn came for lunch one day. Shortly before leaving, she instructed him to turn the car’s air-conditioning on via his phone. Andy tapped away at his mobile and 15 minutes later the car – parked on the street – was cool enough for the babe and its parents to climb into and drive home. Swish. The first fully electric Range Rover has just gone on sale, a snip at £154,070, but I have visions of being stranded on the motorway, Dennis flinging himself into oncoming traffic.

ChatGPT tells me that the Skoda Karoq is worth considering, and somewhat mysteriously that this is the car Dennis would choose if he had a vote. Might Sam Altman be taking Skoda backhanders? ‘It would be fantastic for muddy walks, dog crate, wellies, suitcases, long drives and country weekends,’ ChatGPT declared, before adding, rather damningly: ‘But I’m not convinced you’d love it. It’s very competent and rather sensible.’ Are sense and competence qualities that ChatGPT intuits I dislike? Is this where I’m going wrong romantically and should I consult the robot about that, too?

Actually, I don’t much care about marque. Really all I want is something with a roomy boot and which isn’t quite as grubby as my current vehicle. Although as Nicky Haslam has almost certainly observed before, it’s frightfully common to have a clean car.