There’s no real need for lots of dials in a modern, computer-controlled car. But they are still fitted, in greater numbers than ever. You still find oil pressure gauges, volt meters, rev counters and so on. The new Bugatti has a dial showing how much power you're using, while the Rolls-Royce Phantom has one showing how much you have left.

But no car I’ve ever driven has a cockometer, a dial that shows how much of a penis you look as you drive from place to place.

Take the new Range Rover Sport. If you are black or orange, then it doesn’t make you look like a cock at all. But if you are a white marketing executive, then your cockometer would be right into the red zone. You’ll be at Defcon 4 of cockishness.

Then there’s the new Aston Martin Vantage, and oh dear. Anyone driving around in such a thing must have placed his or her order long before they knew how much it would cost, how fast it would go and how much space there was in the boot.

They signed on the dotted line simply because they wanted to be first to pull up outside the tapas bar in the new Aston. In other words, they ordered it only because they wanted to show off. And how cockish is that? Of course, they’ve been lucky. The Vantage is a wonderful car, but unfortunately if you go out and buy one now because you like the way it sounds and the way it darts into corners like a terrier, it’s no good. We’re going to see you and we’re going to have you clocked as a cock.

The Mitsubishi Evo is an interesting case study. As a driving machine, it has few peers. After you step out of that bin liner of an interior all other cars feel lumpen and fat and unresponsive, so of course it attracts a hardcore following of die-hard driving enthusiasts.

These are people whose need for speed overshadows all other considerations, like style and comfort and value for money. So they’re prepared to drive around in a car that has a spoiler big enough to sunbathe on and an exhaust like the Mont Blanc tunnel, and that means they’re openly flaunting their hobby, in the same way that trainspotters openly flaunt theirs by standing on a windswept platform, knee deep in other people’s urine, with their Tupperware and their Man at Millets clothing. People who flaunt their hobbies in public are a bit sinister, I think.

Strangely, however, a girl in a Mitsubishi Evo is an altogether different kettle of fish. Because by demonstrating her need for speed, what she’s doing is scaring men away. This means that in all probability she’s a lesbian. And that’s not cockish at all.

As a rule of thumb, then, any car that wades into battle with nothing in its armoury except spoilers and sporting pretensions — Evos, Imprezas, Caterhams and so on — will make a man look like a trainspotter, and any car that has a long waiting list before it’s even on sale will make him look like a terrible, social-climbing show-off who needs a flashy keyring to make any sort of headway in life.

Nothing, however, is set in stone. Like fashion in clothing, fashion in cars is in a state of constant flux. Take the Porsche 911 as a prime example of this. Back in the Eighties, this was really the only expensive car that you could realistically buy and use every day. So it’s what City traders from Goodyear Stickleback & Bunson Burner bought when the seven-figure bonus came through. Never in the field of human history has so much been done so wrong by so few. The 911 had a cock rating of such magnitude they were reading about it in seismology centres as far away as California.

Now, though, there are many expensive cars that you can buy and use every day: the Aston DB9, the Ferrari 430, the Maserati Quattroporte and so on. All of these are more current and more stylish, so once again the 911 is bought only by people who appreciate its traction, its steering and its grunt. Nowadays, 911s are bought for the right reasons, and that means it isn’t cockish at all to have one.

Other cars that fit the bill are the Ford GT — that anti-fit blue and white oval on the bonnet means you definitely didn’t buy it for showing off — the Mercedes SLK 55, the Audi RS 4, the BMW M5, the proper Range Rover, the Rolls-Royce Phantom, all small French hatchbacks and, sitting surprisingly near the top, the Ford Mondeo. It really does hide a startling bright light under an enormously impenetrable bush.

But the winner here, the least cockish car that money can buy, is actually the Saab 9-3 estate you see above. If you put a Hummer H2 or a Dodge pick-up truck at one end of the scale, then this is at the other. It’s not a Hawaiian Day-Glo tank. It’s a special forces sniper. Quiet. Unassuming. And invisible. Until you pull the trigger.

Saab was actually the third car maker to start using turbocharging but no other has persevered for quite so long. There have been some mistakes along the way. In the Eighties, for instance, your Saab would get from 40 to 70 faster than a Ferrari Testarossa, but so bad was the torque steer when that mountain of torque hit the front wheels, you had no real say where you’d be when 70 was achieved. Oh, and if you put your foot down in the wrong gear, the lag was so bad, you wouldn’t move at all.

That’s all ancient history now, though. The car I drove had a brand new Australian-built 2.8 litre V6 engine that will one day find its way into various Vauxhalls, Opels and even the next generation of Alfa Romeos. In the Saab, of course, it’s turbocharged to give monstrous potency in the mid ranges, but now all the drawbacks are gone. Now you can put your foot down wherever and whenever the mood takes you, and whoomph, everyone within range will be left wondering why the car they never noticed in the first place has just disappeared.

It’s good this. I really did fear when Saab was bought by the huge pensions and healthcare company called General Motors that some of the turbo individuality would be lost. And I was really scared when I found they were putting the 9-3 on a Vauxhall Vectra platform, but I’m happy to report that silent forced-induction kick in the back is still there. And some.

Speed, however, is only part of the Saab’s appeal. Style’s another and I have to say this is a good-looking car, in the same way that Benicio Del Toro is a good-looking man. It’s an especially nice place to sit. The seats are stunning, the dash works like a dream, especially if you know your way around the cockpit of an F-15, and the steering wheel’s half silver.

The only real drawback is the most dim-witted, slothful and complicated sat nav system I’ve ever lost my temper with. You should have seen the route it selected from Notting Hill to London City airport. An ant with ink on its feet could have come up with a better solution. And more quickly too. And it was a £1,200 option.

But this, really, is my only complaint. The boot’s vast and comes with another load space under a flap in the floor that is just about big enough for badly behaved children.

The handling’s pretty good, too, considering that under the floor it’s a Vauxhall Vectra. But the best thing is the price. The range starts at less than £18,000. And even the 2.8 litre Aero model I tested, which comes with pretty well all the toys, is less than £29,000. You’d struggle to put a similarly sized, similarly fast German car on the road for less.

And what if you succeeded? What if you did end up with a BMW or an Audi estate car? You’d be constantly aware that no cockometer was fitted because if it was it’d be constantly hovering around Defcon 1. It’d be constantly reminding you that you’d been a sheep.

The Saab has no cockometer because it doesn’t need one. You’ve deliberately gone your own way, deliberately bought something that isn’t a BMW or a Merc or an Audi. And in the process you’ve ended up with something that’s not only a little bit different, but also rather good.

VITAL STATISTICS

Model Saab 9-3 2.8T SportWagon Aero
Engine 2792cc, V6
Power 250bhp @ 5500rpm
Torque 258 lb ft @ 4500rpm Transmission Six-speed manual
Fuel 27.7mpg (combined)
CO2 250g/km
Acceleration 0-60mph: 6.6sec Top speed 152mph
Price £28,295
Rating 4/5
Verdict Cocks a discreet snook at rivals

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