All black men are thieves. All Jews would sell their mothers for a pound. All Muslims are suicide bombers and everyone in Ireland is as thick as a slab of cheese. Yes. Right. And everyone with a Chelsea tractor is a stick-thin blonde whose head is so full of useless social engagements that she can’t actually be bothered to steer round other cars, street furniture or bus shelters.

It ain’t necessarily so. All sorts of people buy 4x4s for all sorts of reasons. And contrary to what the global warmists would have us believe, only some are stick-thin blonde women who won’t actually stop until the underside of their car is so jammed up with run-over pedestrians the wheels won’t go round any more.

The wave of hatred, then, that engulfs the off-roader is nothing more than ill informed prejudice. And what makes my blood boil is that things are getting worse.

I do not have much time for people who get dressed up in camouflage clothing and take to the countryside in their Land Rovers to see who can get most covered in mud. This is known as “green laning” and it’s as ridiculous as pushing a kettle over a frozen lake. I wouldn’t want to stop them doing it, though, partly because they’d all be at home otherwise, downloading unusual images from the internet, but mostly because it’s fairly harmless.

Oh no it isn’t, say the ramblists. They argue that green laning is noisy and causes polar bears to drown. One group, the Yorkshire Dales Green Lanes Alliance, says that taking a vehicle for the purposes of fun onto a green lane should be “an offence”.

Now, even if we ignore the difficulties of policing such a law, or of making a case stick in the courts - “I wasn’t doing it for fun” is hard to disprove - we are left astounded at the narrow-mindedness of these people. Not even the communists or the Nazis attempted to make “fun” an offence.

And unfortunately it doesn’t end here because those of a four-wheel-drive disposition are being targeted, not only in the countryside, but in towns as well with local councils saying now that anyone who drives a large car on the school run must pay £75 a year for the privilege.

This is insane. Like many parents, my wife and I have a big, seven-seater Volvo, not because we used to lie awake at night dreaming of the day when we could own such a thing, and not because we always wanted, more than anything, a car that sounds like a canal boat. No. We have it because we are part of a school-run car-sharing scheme.

And the fact is this: by filling our Volvo with six children every morning, we are keeping three other cars off the road. So why should we pay more than someone who takes just two kids to school in a Mini?

In reality, a Mini takes up exactly the same amount of space on the road as a Volvo XC90, so therefore, it should be the Mini driver who’s made to pay a premium while those of us with large, high-occupancy vehicles, are allowed to proceed for free.

I mean it. I would far rather own a Cooper S than a Volvo.

It is better looking, nicer to drive, cheaper to run and cheaper to buy. But I don’t. I sacrifice my love of driving, my love of cars and the contents of my bank for the public good. I should therefore be rewarded with gifts, free passage and some thank-you letters from the world’s polar bears.

Yes, I know I’m supposed to make my children go to school on the bus, but I can’t - for three reasons. One, they’d get lost. Two, they’d catch a disease. And three, there isn’t one.

So, if you are in the same boat as me, and you fancy the idea of a school-run-sharing seven-seater, there are many choices, and almost all of them are terrible in some way. The Audi Q7 is ugly. The Land Rover Discovery weighs more than the moon. The Vauxhall Zafira is a Vauxhall, and the Ford S-Max, while attractive and good to drive, is a mini people carrier . . . and I’m sorry but nothing says you’ve given up in life quite so spectacularly as a car designed entirely to be practical. It’s motoring’s equivalent of a tartan zip-up slipper.

Small wonder, then, the XC90 is almost a part of the school uniform these days. It’s practical. It’s reliable. It has a reputation for safety. With a towbar on the back, it’ll pull a horsebox. I even have a friend who fitted winter tyres and uses it for shooting. But there is one problem. When it first came out, it was good value at less than £30,000. But now the top models are nudging £50,000 or more. And that makes it even more expensive than a packet of pasta.

Which is why my eye was drawn last week to the new Mitsubishi Outlander. Here we have a car that seems to do everything the Volvo does, in a smaller package, for less money. A lot less. The range starts at less than £20,000 and even the most expensive model is only £27,000.

I do not know how such a low price is possible when, so far as I can see, a cut of the profits will be going to every car firm in the world.

The Outlander, amazingly, is based on the same platform as the Mitsubishi Evo X that I reviewed last week. But the car itself was designed in conjunction with Mercedes-Benz when it was in bed with Chrysler, so it shares a great many bits and pieces with the Dodge Nitro, a silly car for silly Americans.

Then there’s the French connection. The Outlander, having been designed in America, Japan and Germany, is being built in conjunction with Peugeot and Citroën, which offer their own versions of the same car. And the 2 litre turbodiesel engine is made by Volkswagen.

No matter: despite the United Nations nature of the background, the end result is quite good.

We’ll deal with the drawbacks first, and that means we have to start in the boot, where there is an essay on how the rear seats should be raised and lowered from the floor. I think it’s designed to be difficult, because then you’ll never actually discover that when the seats are in place there’s no rear legroom, at all, and not much boot left either.

It’s best, then, that on a shared school run, to put the kids you don’t like very much back there.

Next is the four-wheel-drive system. Most of the time you’re in two-wheel drive and that doesn’t really work when the car is fully loaded. Every time you put your foot down, the front end goes light, the driven wheels lose their grip and everything, for a little while, goes all wobbly. Best, I think, to hang the extra fuel consumption and leave it in 4WD all the time.

And that’s it. Those are the drawbacks. All two of them. The rest of the car is well made, well equipped, well trimmed and, like the Evo, fitted with Mitsubishi’s brilliant sat nav system. I also think it is good looking and, despite the fact you can only have it with a diesel engine, quite good to drive. It feels much lighter and more responsive than you might imagine.

Of course, it’s not as much fun as a Mini, it’s not as practical as a Volvo and it won’t be as cheap as its sister car from Citroën . . . not if they do their usual trick of offering customers £1m cashback and the chance to sleep with the managing director’s wife every other Saturday.

But as an overall package, it’s a good way of getting into a car-sharing scheme. Yes, you’ll be charged £75 by idiotic, blinkered councils, but look at it this way - you’ll save the planet, keep the polar bears alive, cut congestion and, best of all, on the mornings when it’s not your turn, have a lie-in.

Vital statistics

Model Outlander 2.2 DI-DC Diamond

Engine 2179cc, four cylinders

Power 154bhp @ 4000rpm

Torque 280 lb ft @ 2000rpm

Transmission Six-speed manual

Fuel 38.7mpg (combined cycle)194g/km

Acceleration 0-62mph: 9.9sec

Top speed 124mph

Price £26,999

Road tax band F (£210 for 12 months)

On sale Now

Rating

Verdict Good for Earth and your pocket

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