It’s been a quiet year for the world’s motor industry. There have been no wrecks, nobody drowning; in fact, nothing to laugh at at all. But, hidden in the sea of normality and business as usual, were a couple of gems.

We start with the BMW X6, which must receive my inaugural What Were They Thinking Of award. Have you seen one? No, and I doubt you ever will because in a world that’s plagued with recession and run by people who believe the world’s polar bears are up at the North Pole sipping pina coladas and slapping on the factor five, it is surely the most inappropriate piece of corporate thinking since Sir Clive Sinclair said: “Yes. The electric slipper. That’s what people want . . .”

However, I cannot say the BMW X6 is the worst car of the year, partly because I have not yet driven it and partly because it cannot possibly be worse than the Chrysler Sebring Convertible. Unless it smells of slurry and the radio is jammed on Rap FM.

The Sebring is an extraordinary car. Ugly to behold and hateful to drive, it is not cheap, elegant, comfortable, practical, prestigious, clever, economical, luxurious, well designed, well thought out or, if the rental car I drove in America this year is anything to go by, especially well made either. Perhaps this is why the boss of Chrysler chose to go to Washington in his private jet. He knew that if he used a Sebring, it would break down on the way. Or worse, it would get there and he’d be a laughing stock among his business-mates from Ford and General Motors.

Strangely, however, the Chrysler is not the worst car I drove all year. That accolade rests with the diesel-powered Kia Sedona people carrier.

With the Sebring, you get the impression that the designers and engineers couldn’t be bothered to make a good car. With the Sedona you are left with the distinct impression they simply didn’t know how.

I cannot conceive of how empty, pointless and lacking in ambition or style your life must be for the Sedona to be a solution. It is like alcohol-free beer, a pointless car-free facsimile of the real thing, and as a result, it can have no place in the life of a sentient being.

The biggest disappointment of the year is a closely fought contest between any number of cars but the winner is Audi’s RS 6. It promises much and on a racetrack it delivers a great deal. But to buy a five-seat estate car simply because it’s so fluent through Becketts is like going out to buy a pet goldfish and coming home with a horse “because it’s so good over the Chair”.

The drawbacks you will encounter in real life are too endless. The uncomfortable seating, the weird steering and a very real sense that in a car like this, 572bhp is a lot more than you will ever need. It’s said you can’t be too beautiful or too rich but you can have too much power. Because one minute you’ll be overtaking a lorry and the next you’ll go mad and want to invade Poland.

Other disappointments are mostly centred on cars which aren’t really as good as others that do broadly the same thing. The Ford Kuga, for instance, is not as good as the Volvo XC60 and the Renault Twingo Renaultsport is not as good as a Fiat 500 Abarth. And then there’s the Vauxhall Insignia, which is massively better than the Vectra it replaces. But not quite as good as the Ford Mondeo. And who says: “Right. What I want to buy is the second-best four-door saloon with no badge prestige”? Actually, come to think of it; who wants to buy the best?

My main gripe of the year, though, rests with seat designers who have got it into their heads that we only like leather – there’s really nothing wrong with pleblon, especially on a day that’s hot or cold, and doubly especially if there are any corners between your house and your place of work.

Worse, though, they seem to think that what we really want are seats in our cars that are less comfortable than those in our kitchens. I know that cod liver oil is good for you. I also know you will go to heaven if you only eat weeds and you spend your evenings embroidering kneelers for the local church. But we are not all vegi-vicars. That is why we don’t wear hair shirts and it’s why we want the seats in our cars to have a bit of give. Are you listening, Vauxhall? Are you listening, Ford? Go and find yourself an old Renault Fuego Turbo. Check out the bean bags it came with and you’ll know what I’m on about.

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