QUARTER POUNDER

THERE IS A part of my brain that has evolved specifically for driving the Audi RS3 and, no matter what the other lobes are preoccupied with, is continually thinking about my driver’s licence and the importance of its existence in my life.

Under normal day-to-day driving the little bundle of synapses does nothing more than quietly fizzing away with a background level of electrical activity. That is until my ears send it the unmistakable sound