Jeremy Clarkson - What Could Possibly Go Wrong...

But what’s it like when you’re not pulling up at a red carpet? Well, happily there isn’t much space left, because, if I’m honest, there’s not much to say.

It costs broadly the same as any of the other thirty-nine mid-sized family hatchbacks from Japan and Europe. It therefore needs to be just as good. And it is.

I explained recently that the car market had come alive in recent months as every manufacturer tried new ideas to meet stringent emissions regulations. But the Kia plays no part in any of this. With the exception of the now ubiquitous feature that stops the engine at the lights and then starts it again when you depress the clutch (huh, call yourself a clutch?), the new Cee’d is about as cutting edge as the bathing platform on a Sunseeker.

It’s simply a good-looking collection of what’s been learnt over the past 110 or so years. It’s plain. If it were a loaf of bread, it would not be sliced. It would not be covered in bits. There’d be no ears of corn in every mouthful. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Except it means I have nothing of any great relevance to say here. There is as much space as you would expect. The back seats fold down. There is a radio. It stops and steers and goes just as well as any other medium-priced hatchback. There’s a 1.4-litre petrol engine with 98 brake horsepower and a 1.6 unit that develops 133 bhp. Pretty much the same as every other 1.6 on the market.

There are also two diesel engines on offer – a 1.4 CRDi and a 1.6 CRDi – along with several levels of trim. The layout is good. The radio is not in the roof. The warranty is long. It’s safe, so you’re unlikely to be killed in action. And that’s all we have space for, so let’s roll the credits, and move on.

We refer often in the Clarkson household to people we call ‘winners’. It’s easy to spot one. He’s a man, he has a Montblanc pen and he enjoys playing golf almost as much as he enjoys talking about it, especially to those who aren’t interested.

The winner has great hair, thick forearms, a smattering of jewellery and a handshake that could squeeze juice from a tree. He works in marketing, knows what Ebitda means and speaks in a rich, deep voice to demonstrate to everyone within earshot that if his life had taken a different course and he’d ended up in a rock band, he’d have had no need on stage for a length of hosepipe in his trousers. The winner walks with a swagger because not only does he know he has a big package. He knows that we know it, too.

At least once a week the winner leaves what he calls ‘the wife’ at home so he can meet up with his mates for what they all call ‘a few jars’. Mostly this is a competition to see who can order the most idiotic cocktail in the deepest voice, and who’s got the most preposterous credit card.

Naturally the winner is very interested in what he wears, what watch he chooses – that’ll be a Rolex – and, most important of all, what sort of car he drives. Some would suggest he has an Audi, and it’s true: many winners do. But, actually, what he wants most of all is any car with a boot lid that opens and closes electrically.

You and I both know that a boot lid that opens when you press a button on the key fob is monumentally stupid because it means we have to stand in the wind and the rain, waiting for an electric motor to do in half an hour what we could have achieved in about one second.

The winner, though, is not bothered about practicalities. It’s why he still uses a fountain pen rather than a biro. So he’s perfectly happy to stand around waiting for his boot lid to open. Hell. People can see him. They know they’re looking at a man whose life is so complete, he has an electrically opening boot lid. Occasionally, when he catches a girl looking at his tailgate rising, the winner will wink at her. He knows she’ll be OK with that. Because he knows that she knows that an electric boot lid is yet another sign his manhood is gigantic.

On that basis the winner will be jolly interested in the new Mercedes M-class, not only because of the electric boot lid but also because of the sheer length of its name. It’s the – deep breath – Mercedes-Benz ML 350 BlueTec 4Matic Sport. Get yer chops around that one, love.

There are other things he will enjoy, too. The climate-controlled cupholders, the in-car internet access, the Harman/Kardon Logic 7 Dolby digital 5.1 surround-sound system and the darkened privacy glass in the back that not only cuts down the glare on the television screens but also makes it hard for prying eyes to see what he’s up to back there with the girl who liked his button-operated tailgate.

There is a small problem, however, with some of this stuff. It’s quite pricy. The standard car is good value at £48,490, but by the time you’ve added a selection of ‘check it out, chicks’ electronics, the bill rockets up to what the winner would call ‘north of 60K’.

And this is what makes the ears of the non-winner prick up. A big, well-equipped Mercedes 4x4 for considerably less than a Range Rover. Hmmm…

The ML had a fairly poor start in life. It was conceived at a time when Mercedes-Benz had convinced itself that its cars were ‘over-engineered’ and that it needed to worry less about reliability. Sadly Mercedes addressed this by not worrying about it at all. And that’s one of the reasons it decided to build its car at a new factory in Alabama.

Once, while I was driving across this extremely violent state in an early example of the breed, a local asked what it was.

‘It’s a Mercedes, but it’s built here,’ I said.

‘Oh,’ he replied. ‘Well, it’ll be shit then.’

He was right – it was. A point that was proved just a few miles down the road when the roof fell off.

Quickly Mercedes decided to buck its ideas up, and fairly soon the ML was a lot better. The AMG-powered ML 63 was an absolute gem, in fact. But the car you see here is the new model. And the version I tested was not a tyre-shredding V8 but a 3-litre diesel.

The engine is remarkable. So quiet, even on start-up, that there is simply no evidence at all that the fuel is being ignited by pressure rather than a spark. It’s frugal, too. You will get almost 40 mpg, which is incredible for a big four-wheel-drive car that can do 0 to 62 mph in less than eight seconds.

There are more good things, chief among which is the comfort. This particular model may be called Sport but it’s no such thing. It’s a cruiser, a big, soft old Hector that irons speed bumps into oblivion and soothes its occupants to the point where they need to be reminded with a bit of wheel judder if they nod off and stray out of lane. In this regard it out-Range-Rovers a Range Rover.

I like the simplicity of the controls as well. Particularly good is the column-mounted gear lever, which, as in the Rolls-Royce Phantom, offers you a choice of forwards, backwards or neither. Sport declutch override power zoom? Nope. It doesn’t have that.

Mostly the interior is very similar to the interior of any other Merc, and this is an issue. It’s like being in an E-class that’s on stilts, which would be fine if the ML were a proper off-roader, but, truth be told, it isn’t. Not really.

It may have one or two off-road features and it may have just enough ground clearance for a gymkhana car park, but it ain’t no G-wagen. In the rough, it ain’t no Range Rover, either. Those of you who shoot? Forget it.

The truth is that you can have just as many seats, the same engine, the same gearbox, the same level of quality, the same ride and even more space for less money if you buy a normal, even-more-economical E-class estate.