The little DS3 has been with us for a couple of weeks now, and I have finally managed to prise the keys out of Nic's hands to get a prolonged run in it.
I, like Nic, am initially very taken with the small Citroen, particularly with the looks. But as an all male office we are aware of the fact that this might not be the most masculine car around.
Admittedly the paintjob is partly at fault for this– white with a red-wine coloured roof was never going to be the most butch combination – but really we only have ourselves to blame for picking that combination in the first place.
But as I was trying to convince myself that the car's butch styling means it isn't tied to either gender, I happened upon a small, unidentifiable button on the dash.
Without being able to make out the symbol while driving I gave it an inquisitive prod and turn. Nothing seemed to happen, until I realised that this part of South London was particularly fragrant.
As this was unlikely to be anything to do with the surroundings – stuck amongst the usual lorries and buses on their crawl through the capital – and it was not my usual brand of aftershave, I figured it might have something to do with the shiny button.
Still, it smelt jolly nice, so I prodded it a couple more times and got just a little closer to my softer side.