Riding in cars with girls

Having written off our car (not me, the Man, in case you ask) we are awaiting the delivery of a very nice Skoda Octavia with lots of bells and whistles on it. We did our homework and knew what model, spec and age we were prepared to pay for, then asked Autosave to find us one. As we are without a vehicle we then couldn't be too choosy when they came back with an option that fulfills all our brief but isn't exactly the sort of colour we would have chosen. Annie (daughter no.2) is apoplectic, and may refuse to ever be seen in it. I may have to close my eyes when approaching it. I'm trying to be relentlessly cheerful, given all its other assets, but it's not easy...

My car is an orrible colour

My car is the colour of poo

It's got leather seats heated in winter

It's got climate control when it's hot

It's got wipers that know when it's raining

And then know when to stop when it's not - but -

My car is an orrible colour

My car is the colour of poo

It's got pockets the size of the planet

And a little light where I keep maps

It's got places to keep all my knick-knacks

And room to stretch out for a nap (not whilst driving) - but -

My car is an orrible colour

My car is the colour of poo

It's got 6 gears to change when I'm cruising

And 6 CDs lined up to play

There's sensors that beep when I'm parking

And scream when my parking's astray - but -

My car is an orrible colour

My car is the colour of poo

Its fuel consumption's impressive

And likewise its space in the boot

It locks with the press of a button

Its horn gives a fierce rooty-toot - BUT -

My car is an ORRIBLE colour

My car is the colour of poo

I've tried to deny

that it offends the eye

but the yellow-brown hue's

like something found on one's shoes

I've tried calling it 'gold'

(It's cappuccino, I'm told)

But the fact of the matter

is, despite all this data:

My car is an orrible colour

My car is the colour of poo!