What came first: the noisy, brightly coloured supercar – or the reckless, narcissistic show-off you so often see at the wheel of one?

A road tester may be in a uniquely fair position to address that. I’m lucky enough to drive plenty of fast, loud, exotic cars in my regular line of work, but not because I’ve spent a perspective-eroding sum to own any of them.

I have no interest to declare. I frequently have been, am and will continue to be both tutting bystander and tutted-at offender.

More often, probably, the former. How often have you been at a car show, event or club meet and seen a supercar that you’re inexorably drawn towards a short time before it is driven in a way that makes you roll your eyes?

Well, let’s consider the case for the defence. The next time you tut, ponder for a moment if your own expectations may be a factor. Modern supercars are, I assure you, dramatic, attention-grabbing cars.

Wherever you drive one, take one, park one, or just stand next to one in a manner suggestive of ownership, you are fair game. You are an attraction. You have invited the gaze of the public.

Eleven-year-olds at bus stops wave their arms and shout: “Rev it!” People ask to take photos, to see inside. They want to know what it’s like. Of course they do.

I usually retreat to a discreet distance and admit at the earliest opportunity that “it’s borrowed”, because I don’t like the glare that these cars create – much less the idea that someone might assume I’d intended to bathe in it.

Whatever you do, though, you can’t really escape it; and clearly, for some, the water’s lovely and they’re very happy to get carried away by it.

Also, when driving a supercar, you might be surprised just how hard you need to work in order not to conform to the stereotype. That sounds like the ultimate cop-out.