We’ve all been there, at the till in a shop, proffering a tenner for the stuff
we’ve bought and trying not to look staggered or embarrassed when the bill
comes to £61.20.
This happens to me a lot, mainly because everything costs about three times
more than I was expecting. A bottle of Diet Coke, for instance. I stand in
the checkout queue thinking: “That cannot possibly cost more than 20 pence.”
So I prepare 60p, and then I have to look unfazed and casual when the girl
demands 85p.
Eighty-five pence. For a plastic bottle of coke. How can this be? I thought
they’d stopped using cocaine as one of the ingredients. So what have they
replaced it with? Gold ingots? Myrrh? It’s the same story with chewing gum,
which cannot, even in the wildest wet dream of Mr Wrigley, possibly cost the
consumer more than 5p a packet. Applying Clarkson’s law, I stand in line
with 15p and then find out the damn stuff is 35p a go.
And nicotine patches. In the adverts they say these will help you stop
smoking. Damn right. At £17 for a box of seven you won’t be able to afford
cigarettes as well.
That said, have you tried to open a nicotine patch sachet? Without the benefit
of scissors — which are not allowed on planes, where you’re most likely to
need the patch — it is not just difficult, it is utterly impossible.
What’s more it’s one of those fiddly, frustrating and ultimately unrewarding
jobs that give any smoker the urge to light up.
Which is the whole point I suppose. Because taking up smoking again is exactly
what the nicotine patch industry wants us to do.
Plumbers are surprising, too, especially now they prefer to be called heating
engineers. The chap turns up in a boiler suit, whips a bit of copper from
your boiler and slots in a new one. So, including the time it took to drive
here and the time it takes to drive back, plus the cost of two inches of
wire, that’s £30 maximum, timesed by three. Call it a round hundred.
Nope. Everything a plumber does quickly is £400. And everything that takes a
few moments is £2,000.
In fact, I’ve just taken a few moments to think of anything — cushions,
electrical goods, holidays, stationery, bank charges — that costs less than
you might reasonably expect.
These new cheap flights sound promising. “Fly to Nice for £20,” scream the
adverts. But every time I reserve a seat they charge me £100. And when I ask
why, I’m told it’s because I didn’t think to book before I was born.
The BBC is good value. It is genuinely impressive that it can fill eight
television channels and God knows how many radio waves with stuff at a cost
to the listener of 30p a day. Sure, ITV fills two channels at a cost to the
listener of 0, but then there’s nothing you want to watch.
Newspapers are good value, too. At a guess I’d say that this one, this
morning, contains a million words, which works out at 0.00014p per word. And
that makes antidisestablishmentarianism the bargain of the century.
Books work, too. You pay less for a novel than you do for a cinema ticket yet
it lasts for days. And a Big Mac McMeal with McChips and a McCoke for 99p is
fairly stunning too. Especially when, as we know, the drink part costs 85p.
But I have to say that the best value thing I can think of at the moment is
Daihatsu’s new Charade, which goes on sale later this month.
At £5,995 this is a car you can buy with your Switch card, on a whim, because
the bus was late and there weren’t any taxis and you couldn’t be bothered to
wait any longer.
Don’t think, however, that because the new Charade is cheap it’s equipped like
a Turkish prison. You get antilock brakes, electronic brake force
distribution, two airbags, speed-sensitive power steering, electric front
windows, electric door mirrors, central locking and a CD player.
You also get a fair bit of oomph. Daihatsu, the first Japanese car maker to
set up shop in Britain back in 1965, has built a reputation for squeezing
amazing power from very small spaces. I believe its old Charade GTti was in
1987 the world’s most powerful 1 litre car.
Well, it has switched emphasis now with astonishing results. The
three-cylinder 1 litre engine found in the new Charade has 12 valves,
dynamic variable valve timing and twin overhead camshafts, all of which is
very dull.
The results aren’t, though. Official figures suggest it will do 68.9mpg out of
town, making this the most economical and the cleanest petrol-engined
four-seater money can buy.
I was expecting it to move with the zest of a Saturday shop girl but no: 0 to
62 was dispensed with in 12.2sec and at one point on our test track I hit
the ton. For a city car the Charade is amazingly lively.
I’m going to stick my neck out here. We often talk about which car has the
best engine. The BMW M3’s is very good but the Ferrari 360’s V8 cannot be
ignored. Nor can the VTEC motor in a Honda S2000. Honestly, though, all
things considered, as a technical tour de force you’re hard pressed to do
better than the low-friction twin-cam in this Charade. It even makes a
growly grrrrrrrr sound.
So, good engine and good value for money, where’s the drawback? Well, it’s not
what you’d call a large car. I’ve seen bigger handbags, in fact. But that’s
okay.
Size is important in many things. No man, for instance, dreams of having a
smaller penis in the same way that no woman I’ve ever met thinks her breasts
are plenty big enough. Nobody dreams of buying a smaller television set in
the same way that none of you will dream of swapping whatever you’ve got now
for a smaller car, no matter how clever it is at maths and stuff.
Old people, however, are different. Old people do think about getting a
smaller house and a smaller garden. And they may very well want a smaller
car because they only ever need to get from the beetle drive to the bridge
club. So, Enid and Gilbert, this one’s for you.
It’s as easy to get into and out of as a Shackleton easy chair. There’s enough
space in the back for a game of whist. The boot’s bigger than you get on a
VW Lupo. So far as reliability’s concerned the Charade will be exemplary.
You’re more likely to be let down by your kitchen table.
The best bit, though, I’ve saved till last. It’s a remarkably comfortable car,
soaking up speed humps and potholes with a disdain that belies the shortness
of its wheelbase. Sure, on a racetrack it handles about as badly as any car
I’ve ever driven, but who cares? My dog can’t do the ironing, that’s not
what it’s for.
When you turn it on, a readout on the dash says: “Hello, happy.” And when you
turn it off, it says: “See you — goodbye.” Obviously I’d smash that with a
hammer, and then I’d be left with an easy-to-drive, super-comfortable,
super-value, spacious, practical, economical city car that does motorways
too.
Most of all, though, I’d be left with something unusual these days: something
that costs less than you’d imagine.
Vital statistics
Model Daihatsu Charade
Engine type 989cc, three cylinders
Power 57.7bhp @ 6000rpm
Torque 67.1 lb ft @ 4000rpm
Transmission Five-speed manual
Suspension (front) Independent MacPherson struts, L-shaped
lower arms; (rear) semi-independent torsion beam axle with trailing arms,
dampers and coil springs
Dimensions length 3410mm; width 1475mm; height 1500mm
C02 114g/km
Fuel 58.9mpg (combined)
Top speed 99.4mph
Acceleration 0 to 62mph: 12.2sec
Price £5,995
Verdict Astonishing value for money and not bad to drive. If
you're after a cheap and practical car look no further
