I’ve just got back from what’s got to be the worst place to drive anywhere in the world – Delhi – and never before has the journey home from Heathrow felt so safe and restful.

Nothing can prepare you for Delhi’s traffic – and, having seen it, I can’t imagine the culture shock of arriving at Indira Gandhi International Airport, renting a Maruti or Tata and actually mixing it with the dusty, noisy, honking mass of traffic outside.

Thankfully, I didn’t actually have to do that. Such is the enterprising spirit of this place that you can pay a local to drive you around for about a fiver a day and I spent my whole time there in the back of a minibus, observing the pandemonium outside my window.

This is a city of 15 million people, twice as many vehicles (if you count everything with wheels), and where I’m told that you can ‘buy’ a driver’s licence from the right local government bloke for a couple of hundred rupees and a passport photo.