As I’m sure all but the most sleep-deprived of you are aware by now, I’m a MINI dressed as a cow. Pretty straightforward stuff. Nothing weird or kinky in that. No, ma’am. In fact, I’m sure the word that sprang to mind when you first clapped eyes on me with my orange fur and bovine horns was “cool”. That, or “sophisticated”.

I have to say, though, it was a close call. But for a simple roll of a die, I could’ve ended up looking like a right numpty.

The haggis, particularly, wouldn’t do me any favours. Not in the week of Burns Night, anyway. If people were determined enough and hungry enough, there’d soon be nothing left of me but a gnawed chassis.

The police would have to identify me from my MoT records.

Here, for your delectation, are the near misses: the idiotic costume designs that could so easily have turned me into a complete laughing stock.

I think you’ll agree that I’ve had a very narrow escape indeed.