Hybrid was originally the Latin name for the offspring of a tame sow and a wild boar. Since that ancient bastardy the word has come far. We’ve just bought a Hybrid. Ours is a car. The electric motor is the sow. Her battery’s massive bulk is hidden behind the back seats where all good batteries skulk. Petrol powers the wild boar. He charges her with zest for he’s turned on when she feels low. He takes a rest at traffic lights or in a queue. That way he doesn’t fart which makes the townsfolk cough and wheeze. He’s courteous and smart letting his mate, the silent sow, use all her subtle power and rousing when the driver’s foot demands more miles per hour. To zoom away at traffic lights or overtake uphill requires a little extra so they couple with a will. Braking and free-wheeling charge the battery as wheels turn the motor, recouping energy. Our Hybrid’s sleek and handsome, nothing like a pig. The ride is very easy, the boot is very big. The seats give every comfort, and for economy you won’t find many better at 60 mpg. You get a government refund; a thousand off the price. No congestion charges; taxed like a motor bike. So if you cannot bear the thought of being car-free buy yourself a Hybrid, like my man and me.