You have to pity poor Nicolas Sarkozy. The French President loses his temper occasionally and immediately he is suffering from a Napoleon complex. For some reason, short chaps draw the short straw when it comes to image, but the sweeping conclusion that short means “desperate to prove himself” is about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

So, Napoleon did a bit of empire building. But when Henry VIII (6ft 2in) erupted, did the royal court mutter: “There he goes. Big bloke's complex”? Or was James Madison, the shortest President of the United States at 5ft 4in, any more or less deranged than Bill Clinton (a bulky 6ft 1in) during their terms in the White House? Why is it that size doesn't matter, when regular Sex and the City viewers know that it does really, but she just doesn't like to mention it?

Just why is big so beautiful? The most uncomfortable journey of my life was eight hours to Singapore in the company of a bloke whose diet consisted of small furry animals and vats of Coca-Cola. His knees were everywhere, his elbows were in my ribs and his gut almost had the aircraft leaning to the right; it is a wonder we didn't go around in circles. At one point he grunted that the “damned seats are too small”. Fortunately, he was jammed into his economy seat so tightly that a physical response was impossible to my suggestion that perhaps the seats were the right size and he was the problem.

Small is beautiful, scientifically and aesthetically. We nippers do not eat as much, do not take up as much room, our clothes are cheaper to produce and we breathe in less of the planet's air and breathe out less CO2.

If only such common sense prevailed on the roads, where size-ism rages. Cars are putting on weight as rapidly as a shellsuited northern lass in a pie shop. Women who drive 4x4s on the school run make no secret they like the feeling of power that the car's imposing bulk gives them on roads as they look down on regular cars and sneer at aggressive cyclists knowing that size does count when it comes to a fight. In an accident, a big car will squash a little one on equal terms; it is a fact of life and physics.

But there are surprising pockets of common sense. Even the lovely Liz Hurley and the, well, quite lovely Wayne Rooney got the message this week. Hurley went off shopping in the brilliant Fiat 500, a stylish, nippy little town car that goes as well as it looks. Better still, it will do close on 50 miles to the gallon and has one of the lower CO2 emissions ratings, making road tax cheap into the bargain.

Rooney, of course, is a boy and giving up his Lamborghini, his Bentley and Range Rover as well as his £350,000 Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren Roadster is not easy because the big boys in the Manchester United playground might laugh at him. But his compromise was clever: a Mini GP, £25,000 of hyped-up Mini with 218 brake horsepower that makes it fast as well as cuddly.

But if you are confident in yourself, Wayne, size does not matter. Jenson Button and David Coulthard, two of the fastest men on the planet in their Formula One cars, drive Smart cars at home in Monaco. Indeed, Coulthard just bought Karen Minier, his fiancée, one to complete the family fleet. Easy to drive, cheap to buy, they do not have fat waistlines and long legs like Lamborghinis and Bentleys that stick out everywhere and leave the rest of us with no room to move. They consume less and pump out less pollution. And they are cute - just like small people. Even Nicolas Sarkozy. Honest.

Little and large

Cuties: Smart £8,500. Small enough to keep in your handbag

Fiat 500 From £7,900. The original and still stylish Citroën C1 From £7,555. Funky, quirky and fun to drive

Fatties: Bentley Continental GT From £120,000. Made in Britain, fed with German sausages Range Rover From £57,750. Johnny Vegas on wheels Mercedes SLR McLaren Roadster From £313,000

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