I’m having lunch with my agent – an infrequent occurrence, because neither of us ever has any good news for the other. This lunch is no different.

“Sorry to make you come all this way,” she says, “but I had to be near the office today.” She hints at some complex contractual negotiations involving an author for whom, I suspect, she always has good news.

“That’s OK,” I say.

“Did you come on the tube?” she says. “Did it take for ever?”

“I drove, actually,” I say. “Because I have an electric car.”

People sometimes ask why I bought an electric car. What did I want from it? To save money? To help the environment? To guard myself against future fuel shortages, or toxic emissions, or both?

The truth is: I wanted a medal. I wanted people to see the little green rectangle on my number plate and think: there goes a great guy, doing his best; let’s slow down and give him plenty of room to pull into our lane.

This does not happen.…